Scratch
by RememberingKaylee
Summary: Nobody can ever tell anyone else exactly when to start progressing after something terrible happens. But they sure as hell can influence the outcome of one's process in doing so themselves. AU
1. Chapter 1

She took a long drag of her cigarette before extending her thumb to the blur of speeding traffic racing past her, the headlights of the passing cars making her long, blonde curls glow like a beacon in the darkness.

They say that 'Nothing happens until something moves'. Cause and effect, crime and punishment, motive and result. Though not always direct, an outcome from an action is inevitable.

That be the case, maybe Anna-Elizabeth Sawyer wouldn't be standing alone on the curb of a busy highway if she hadn't broken the green ceramic vase in the basement. And everything that had happened between now and the vase would have been different. Maybe if she had gone to the store to buy light bulbs, instead of looking down in the basement, she wouldn't have had to plan her grandfather's funeral earlier that week. Maybe if she had remembered to change the light bulb in her lamp before it burned out, she wouldn't have found that old box of letters, which completely and utterly altered everything she had believed for the past nine years.

But for every action-the cause-, there is an unavoidable reaction-the effect.

She was brushing her hair when the lamp burned out.

"There should be some extra bulbs in the basement," Grandpa Larry said, from his usual spot on the couch.

She never went into the basement. The basement is where they kept her mother's things, the things her grandfather didn't have the heart to throw away. If she had a say in the matter, her mother's belongings would be rotting in a landfill somewhere.

She always liked that her mother had named her Anna-Elizabeth, after two apparently influential women in her mother's life. Anna-Elizabeth was her name, but her mother had called her simply 'Elle'. Four perfect little letters, forward and backward. She had a beautiful fascination with her name as a young child, scribbling E-L-L-E in big , loopy crayon letters on every single picture she colored; each one she gave to her mother, and only her mother.

It had been a few months since anybody had been in the basement. The air was heavy with dust, making Elle cough repeatedly. She spent several minutes moving boxes around the floor, clearing a path to a large cobweb-covered storage shelf on the far side of the room, her fingers leaving prints on the dusty boxes.

When she reached the shelf, she saw it-a small box of light bulbs behind a chipped, hideously green ceramic vase and a dirty old shoebox. Elle extended her thin arm past the vase, reaching for the light bulbs, but her elbow tipped the vase off of the shelf, causing it to shatter on the cement floor, a cloud of dust erupting up around the shards of ceramic pieces.

Elle cursed quietly, quickly gathering the broken pieces into a small pile on the floor. Thinking that the dirty old shoebox would be a good place to store the broken vase, she reached for it, opening the lid to see what was inside.

Elle, however, wasn't remotely prepared for what she found. This dusty and dingy shoebox contained a stack of about nine letters, all addressed to her.

"What the hell…?" Elle muttered, immediately forgetting about the broken vase at her feet. She reached for the first letter in the pile, opening it gingerly, not wanting to rip the envelope. She noticed that the date at the top of the flowery stationary was from about five years ago. Her eyes widened as she quickly read over the words, her heart thumping forcefully in her chest as she read it again, and again once more.

_**Dear Elle, **_

_**I'm not sure if you remember who I am, but I was your mother's very best friend, and I used to come and stay with you and your grandpa when things would get bad with your mom. I know that I haven't been in touch, and I apologize, I never wanted to leave you, or your mom. Maybe you will understand when you are older, but for now, all I can say is that I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I grew up resenting a woman who abandoned me, and I never want you to feel that way about me. I also want to make it very clear that your mom didn't abandon you either. She loved you, Elle, more than I've ever seen her love anything in the world. Your mother was sick. She was ill, and none of that was your fault. She merely succumbed to her disease, something you, I, or anyone else shouldn't resent her for. You are beautiful and strong, Elle, and I know you are going to be brave and get through the heartache this whole mess has caused. I always loved you as my own child, and I hope to see you again someday. If you ever need anything, or just want to come for a visit, my door is always open to you. Take care, sweetheart. **_

_**Love, Brooke Davis-Baker**_

_Then___

"_Momma," Elle said worriedly, as her mother stumbled into the kitchen. The sudden smell of alcohol made the six-year-old scrunch her nose in distaste. "Momma, why are you acting funny?" _

"_I'm not." Peyton Sawyer said dryly, looking at her daughter through heavy, drunken eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about," _

_It had been a week since Peyton Sawyer-Cassidy had to put her husband in the ground. John Cassidy was not only the love of her life, but the man who rescued her from a very broken heart five years ago, after she thought she would never, ever love again. A car accident ended his life, a head-on collision in a treacherous rainstorm. _

"_I miss daddy too, momma," Elle said gently, as Peyton drunkenly walked over to the table at which Elle sat._

"_He wasn't even your real father," Peyton slurred, "God, my life is such a mess," _

_Elle's bottom lip trembled as Peyton stumbled out of the kitchen and into the living room. Brooke quickly rushed into the kitchen, kneeling down in front of Elle. _

"_Daddy wasn't my real daddy?" Elle asked, her big blue eyes filling with tears. _

"_That's right sweetie," Brooke said softly, "Your daddy adopted you when you were only a year old." _

"_But why?" Elle asked_

"_You know how it takes a mommy and a daddy to make a baby?" Brooke said, as Elle nodded. "Well sometimes the daddy can't be in the baby's life, so he has to let another daddy to the job instead." _

"_So that's what daddy did?" Elle said, the tears disappearing from her eyes. "He took the job?" _

"_You bet he did." Brooke grinned, "Just because he didn't help create you doesn't mean he isn't your daddy. He didn't love you any less." _

"_Okay, good," Elle grinned, showing her missing front teeth. "I still miss him, even though Grandpa Larry said he only went to heaven," _

"_You're right, he did go to heaven. That's why your mommy is so sad, Elle." Brooke said, "She misses your daddy so much. She didn't mean to be nasty to you." _

"_I hope so," Elle replied. Brooke looked up as Peyton reappeared in the kitchen, sorrowful tears running down her face. _

"_Mommy's sorry," Peyton said, kneeling down next to Brooke, pulling Elle into her arms. "So sorry," _

Now

There were very few times in her life when Elle had been this angry. It was the kind of angry that made her shoulders tense up, made her organs tremble, and made her jaw clench. She stomped up the basement stairs, the box of letters in one hand, a clenched fist in the other.

"When were you going to tell me that she was writing to me?" Elle demanded, throwing the dusty box of letters on the couch cushion next to her grandfather.

"Elle," Larry Sawyer began slowly, turning his TV program off. Larry didn't always waste his day away in front of the television; he once had been a strong, successful man with a loving wife and beautiful, bright-eyed daughter. But that was a long time ago. Life had taken its toll on Larry Sawyer, his hair had grayed too early, he tired too easily. Pain was never an unfamiliar feeling to him, but pain was still pain, and it was still painful, no matter how many times he had felt it. He was a broken man. Larry Sawyer watched television all day, an easy escape from the lifetime of sorrow and regret that constantly clung to his insides.

"You had no right to hide these. They were _mine_," Elle said, her voice slowly rising, "I can't believe you would do this to me, especially after everything we've been through!"

"You listen to me," Larry slowly stood up, his old knees creaking, "I was only trying to protect you. To keep you from your mom's painful past."

"But they were _mine!" _Elle shouted, "I hated that woman for never staying in touch after she stopped visiting. I resented her _every day. _ When really the person I should be resenting right now is-"

Before Elle could finish what she was going to say, Larry began to gasp for air, clutching his chest with both hands. Elle rushed over to him as he fell to his knees, doubling over in pain.

"Grandpa, Grandpa! Oh, god!" She cried, "What's happening to you?"

"I-ca-can't-breathe!" he gasped, rolling onto his back.

"Oh, god, oh, god," her hands shook violently as she pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. She hastily punched in the numbers before bringing the cell phone to her ear. "Yeah, hi, I need an ambulance!"

_Then_

"_Momma, who is my real daddy?" seven year old Elle asked, twirling a strand of her blonde curls around her finger. _

"_Your _real _daddy," Peyton said, taking a swig of the glass of gin in her hand, "didn't want to be a part of my family." _

"_But why?" Elle asked, as persistent as any young child looking for answers. _

"_Oh, my God, Elle," Peyton said, covering her face in annoyance, "stop asking me all these damn questions," _

_Elle slunk out of the living room and into the kitchen, where her grandpa Larry was working on fixing the broken toaster. "Grandpa, why isn't my real daddy part of momma's family?"_

_Larry gently placed the toaster on the counter and patted his knee; Elle recognizing the gesture as an invitation to sit on his lap. She sat on his thighs as he supported her back with his left hand. "Sometimes parents don't always stay married. Sometimes they don't even get married at all. Remember when your friend Ginger, from down the street, had to move to a new neighborhood because her mommy and daddy got a divorce?" _

"_Yes," Elle nodded_

"_It's kind of like that, except your real daddy never lived here at all." Larry concluded, giving Elle a pat on the back. "Do you understand?" _

"_Why is momma so sad all the time?" She asked innocently, _

"_Your mom has a disease, a sickness, that makes her sad all the time. It's called Manic Depression. It's very serious, and you need to be extra nice to her, even when she is being nasty to you. It's not her fault, it's just the sickness." _

"_How can she get better?" Elle's big eyes were wide with concern. _

"_Well, sweetheart, your mom is going to have to go away for a little while. She's going to go on a little vacation for a few weeks to get better. And Brooke's going to be here to stay with you until your mom's better." Larry said, as Elle gasped. _

"_I don't want momma to go away!" She cried, "I want her to stay here!" _

"_She can't stay here, honey, not until she's better again. You want your mom to get better, don't you?" Larry asked, as Elle looked at her feet. _

"_Yes," she said sadly, "more than anything," _

Now

Elle had been to this hospital in Los Angeles many times before. The first time, she was five, after breaking her wrist on the school playground. A few years later, however, she began coming for a different reason. The psychiatric ward always made Elle feel uneasy and scared, but Brooke made sure that she never missed the twice a week visits they made to see her mother. Each time they would walk in through the hospital doors, Elle always watched the sad, worried people seated in the waiting room chairs, waiting for news on their loved ones. Even at her young age, Elle had understood what those people were waiting for, she remembered her mother discussing her fear of waiting rooms with Brooke one day.

"_Ever since my mom died," _she had said, "_They have always been a place where bad, terrible things happen. All those times, all the accidents…Nathan, Lucas, Haley, Karen, and now John...,"_

After hearing that conversation, Elle had decided that waiting rooms were a bad, terrible place, too. Each time they would pass the waiting room, she clung to Brooke's hand a little tighter, studying the distressed people in the chairs.

She had always hated waiting rooms because her mother had hated them. But now, as she sat here, Elle realized just why they had been so distressing. They said he had suffered a massive heart attack, and was currently in surgery. It had been exactly one hour, forty-seven minutes, and twenty-one seconds since she had taken her seat here in the waiting room.

Her fingernails dug into her palms as she waited, anxiety twisting her insides into knots, counting each individual second as they continued to tick by, in slow motion.

She stood up when the scrub-clad surgeon slowly made his way over to her, a sullen look on his sweaty face. He was accompanied by a small woman in a white coat, who had a clipboard in her hands.

"We did everything we could," The surgeon said, as the woman in the white coat put her hand on Elle's shoulder.

Elle went numb, she did not cry, she did not scream. She didn't feel sad, or shocked or angry. She felt nothing, nothing at all.

"I'm so sorry," the woman rubbed circle's on Elle's back. Elle didn't feel them.

"Can I see him?" She finally said, her voice sounded strange- low and flat.

"Of course," The woman doctor said, leading Elle out of the waiting room.

It wasn't the first dead body she had ever seen. She studied him carefully, as lay there on the metal table, his body draped by a white sheet. He didn't look dead; he looked more like he was asleep, as though he had merely drifted off while watching one of his television programs. He didn't look dead.

Before she realized what she was doing, Elle had raced over to a small trash can in the corner of the room, where she was horribly, violently, sick.

***

The funeral had been small, thrown together in only two days, some of Larry's old friends from his dredging days had showed up, and some of her mother's old doctors. Elle didn't realize how much her family had isolated themselves from other people until she realized that there wasn't really anyone for her to call. Sure, she could have called her friends from high school, but all she would have gotten was a few moments of their pity before they moved on to the next exciting thing that was happening in Los Angeles.

She had turned eighteen a few months prior to Larry Sawyer's sudden death, and made the choice to deal with everything-the paperwork, the body, the organs, the house- herself.

The numbness in her chest still hadn't gone away, she couldn't feel the grief she knew she so well. She didn't cry-she wouldn't cry.

It wasn't until after the ceremony when she noticed that Brooke's letters still sat there on the couch. Memories of the past few days began to play through her mind like a film being fast-forwarded. Then suddenly, she felt something. A rush or adrenaline erupted in her chest as she quickly gathered the letters in her arms, before hastily throwing them into an old beat up duffel bag, stuffing some clothes, her laptop computer, and a handful of cash into the bag as well.

She bought the first bus ticket out of Los Angeles, replaying the words of Brooke's letter in her head, over and over again.

"_**If you ever need anything, or just want to come for a visit, my door is always open to you. Take care, sweetheart."**_

She only had enough money to make it to Texas.

She stood on the curb of a highway somewhere outside of Dallas, her bag over her shoulder and her cigarette calming her nerves. Maybe if she had grabbed some more money, she wouldn't be hitchhiking her way to Tree Hill, North Carolina.

No matter how many 'what-ifs' or 'Maybes' she played in her head, the cause to this effect wouldn't change. Anna-Elizabeth Sawyer's life was, once again, turned completely upside down, all because of that stupid, ugly, green ceramic vase.


	2. Chapter 2

When she was a little girl, Brooke Davis-Baker loved to watch the Donna Reed Show.

She loved the pearls, heels, and crisp dresses, but she loved watching the Stone family most of all. She dreamed that one day she would just wake up, and her mom would be in the kitchen, cooking her breakfast, a happy smile on her face. Her dad would be at the kitchen table, reading the morning paper before work. Brooke would sit down next to him, and he would kiss her on the top of the head. Her mom would join them at the table, and they would make light, cheerful conversation. They would be happy.

Occasionally, she would make Peyton act out episodes with her, and Peyton would do so, grudgingly, of course. Peyton always had thought that the show was goofy, but Brooke admired the happy family in black and white, admired the happy endings.

Brooke Davis-Baker always believed in happy endings. Even after every tragedy, every heartbreaking, life-shattering event that had ever happened in her life had told her not to. Brooke Davis-Baker was an optimist.

She smiled to herself as she chopped an onion in her beautiful, elaborate kitchen. After a bumpy childhood, an even bumpier adolescence, and a long string of pain and heartache, Brooke Davis-Baker had finally achieved happiness. She lived in a wonderful house, and had a beautiful, beautiful family. She no longer had to dream about the Donna Reed Show.

Brooke had met Julian Baker in New York. She was designing clothes, and he was filming a movie on location. She was sad and broken, but Julian Baker pulled her out of the darkness, showed her happiness again. Julian Baker made her invincible, because even the tragedy that followed, the pain, the confusion, couldn't break her new-found spirit.

They had married almost six years ago. Around the same time, Brooke began fostering a twelve year old boy named Matthew. When Brooke learned that she would never be able to have children of her own, she vowed that she would help other people who had that same emptiness in their hearts, children who could never have families of their own.

Soon after Matthew became a permanent part of the Davis-Baker family, they adopted a four year old boy from Brazil, Joseph. And most recently, the beautiful baby girl Brooke had always dreamed of- who they named Avery- all the way from China.

They were perfect. They were diverse, eccentric, but most importantly, they were unbelievably perfectly, finally, happy. Her happy ending.

_Then_

"_I'm getting married, I'm finally getting married," Peyton said joyfully, holding the phone to her ear, as she balanced baby Elle on her hip. "Jonathan proposed last night," _

"_Oh, Peyton!" Brooke cried, on the other line, "Please, please, please, let me design your wedding dress!" _

"_I wouldn't have it any other way," Peyton grinned. "And Brooke?" _

"_Yes?" Brooke asked, eagerly. _

"_Will you be my maid of honor?" Peyton asked slowly, as Elle tugged on a lock of Peyton's curls. _

"_Oh, P." Brooke said, happy tears welling in her eyes, "I would be honored," _

"_I love you, B. Davis," Peyton said, "God, I almost forgot how good it felt to be this happy!" _

"_Peyton, do you want anyone from Tree Hill to come? Do you want me to let anyone know?" _

"_No." Peyton said abruptly, almost harshly._

"_Are you sure…?" Brooke asked, uneasily, "Because I think-," _

"_No." Peyton said again, "Tree Hill's not my world anymore. I left for good a long time ago. I'm never going back to that kind of pain and heartache. I've found my happy ending, it's here. Here in LA with Jonathan and Elle."_

_Brooke paused. "I'm glad you're happy, Peyton. You deserve it." _

Now

The loud thumps of a dribbling basketball made Brooke look up from her cutting board.

"Hey Brooke," Matthew greeted, as he entered the kitchen, having just returned from a game at the rivercourt.

"What did I say about basketball in the house?" Brooke raised an eyebrow.

Matt immediately stopped dribbling, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry,"

Matt had grown into a strong, young man in the last five years. He had come into the Davis-Baker home a timid, scared young boy with a rough past. Now eighteen, Matt had graduated top in his class, and was headed to Duke University in the fall.

"What's for dinner?" he asked, noting the onions on Brooke's cutting board.

"Stir-fry and rice noodles," Brooke replied, "How was basketball with Jamie and Nathan?"

"A workout," Matt said, "Jamie's gotten really good since he's been at Stanford."

"MATT!" Joseph cried, as he ran into the kitchen, wearing one of Matt's oversized basketball jerseys. It warmed Brooke's heart how much the nine year old looked up to Matt.

"Hey, Joey," Matt greeted, "My jerseys looks good on you,"

"I can't believe you gave it to me!" Joey said excitedly, "Next time you go play with Jamie, can I come too?"

"We'll see, bud," Matt replied, giving Joey a rub on the top of the head. Joey followed Matt out of the kitchen, gabbing excitedly about how he made three jump-shots in a row.

"Momma, momma!" came a little girl's voice, Brooke looked up to see three-year old Avery race into the kitchen, wearing a frilly pink dress-up costume, and sporting a plastic tiara on the top of her head. "I'm a pea-cess, momma!"

"You are a Princess, babygirl!" Brooke smiled, looking up as Julian walked in as well.

"I'm a pea-cess, Daddy!" Avery cried happily, as Julian scooped her into his arms.

"A very beautiful princess!" Julian kissed Avery on the cheek, before walking to the counter and kissing Brooke as well.

"Hi," Brooke smiled, looking into his eyes.

"Hi," Julian said back, kissing her again.

Yes, she had finally found her happy ending.

_Then_

_Elle had been sitting at the kitchen table for almost two hours, intricately working on her latest drawing to give to her mother. Her hands were tired, she was thirsty, but she wouldn't stop until the picture was finished. _

"_Elle!" Peyton's harsh voice made the nine-year-old jump in her seat. "What the hell are you doing?" _

"_I'm coloring, mom," Elle said, looking, recognizing that her mother was in a nasty mood today. _

"_You got that shit on the table!" Peyton cried, pointing to the lines of wax crayon on the wooden tabletop. "It's all over the table! Can't you keep your goddamn crayons on the goddamn paper?" _

"_I'm sorry, mom," Elle's eyes welled with tears, "I'll clean it up," _

"_Just get out! GET OUT!" Peyton yelled, as Elle jumped at the sound of her mother's voice. "GET OUT!" _

_Big, fat tears fell from the little girl's eyes as she raced out of the kitchen, pushing past Brooke, who rushed into the room at the sound of Peyton's screams. _

_Peyton threw the crayons onto the linoleum floor, swearing loudly. "is the whole world completely incompetent? Do I have to do everything around here?" _

_Peyton then rushed out of the kitchen, and stomped upstairs, Brooke following close behind her. _

"_Peyton!" Brooke scolded, as they entered Peyton's bedroom. "Elle is a _little girl. _You shouldn't have yelled at her like that." _

_Peyton's moods had been so completely extreme lately that Brooke wasn't phased when Peyton suddenly threw herself onto her bed, sobbing loudly. _

"_I'm sorry," Peyton wailed, her words muffled by the comforter. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" _

"_It's okay…," Brooke sighed and seated herself next to Peyton. This was something that now happened almost daily, physically and emotionally draining Brooke. _

_Her visits to LA had been steadily becoming longer and more frequent. Larry had moved in a few years back, but his job kept him away during the daytime hours. Elle was only nine years old, and couldn't handle Peyton herself. Brooke kept coming back, she couldn't help herself. She had to help her best friend, her P. Sawyer, and little Elle. _

"_Elle hates me," Peyton sobbed, "She hates me! I'm so horrible to her!" _

"_No she doesn't," Brooke said softly, "Just apologize later, she'll understand," _

"_No!" Peyton said, between gasps for air, "She hates me! All I do is make people miserable! I'm just a waste of space, a waste of a life! I don't even know why I bother anymore! I just want to give up!" _

"_You will not give up!" Brooke said sternly. Peyton looked down, overcome with a fresh wave of sobs. Brooke grabbed Peyton's chin, forcing the sobbing blonde to look at her in the face. "You have a BEAUTIFUL daughter that loves you, that NEEDS you. Jesus, Peyton, she colors pictures for you EVERY day! She craves your attention!" _

"_Don't touch me!" Peyton jerked her face out of Brooke's hand, her temper flaring up again, "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" _

"_Oh, I sure as hell do know what I talking about! I'VE been there for her!" Brooke hissed, "While you lie in here and sleep all day, your child, your baby is pining for you! A child shouldn't have to PINE for their parent's love! We both knew how bad it hurt to grow up without mothers. Do you really want your daughter to fell that pain and resent you for it for the rest of her life?" _

"_Screw you, Brooke," Peyton's tone venomous, "You should go back to New York with your fancy movie-producer boyfriend. Stop wasting your time here, pretending to play mommy to MY daughter, just because you can't have any kids of your own!" _

_Brooke, stung, took a deep breath before walking out of Peyton's room, before she says anything that will further upset her mentally unstable friend. She closed the door quietly, as Peyton began bawling loudly again. _

"_Don't be sad," came a timid voice from behind her. _

_The little voice made Brooke jump and wheel around, facing Elle. Brooke let Elle wrap her small arms around her waist. _

"_Mom yells at me too," Elle said, "But she always says she's sorry, when she's in her nice mood again," _

_Brooke's chin quivered as she hugged the little girl back, every fiber of her being working to keep the tears at bay. _

_***  
"She needs to go back," Brooke said to Larry that evening, after Peyton and Elle had both fallen asleep. "She needs help, Larry," _

"_I won't put my little girl in the hospital again," Larry said, shaking his head, "It didn't help last time, and it's not going to help now." _

"_She is progressively getting worse and worse every day," Brooke argued, "It's not healthy to keep her here, pretending there's nothing wrong with her!" _

"_We have to pretend there's nothing wrong with her! For her own sake!" Larry said desperately, "She will shut us all out if we treat her like a mental case!" _

"_She IS a mental case!" Brooke hissed, "And I can't keep pretending she isn't!" _

"_I can handle my baby girl!" Larry said back, _

"_And I can't keep coming here, and staying for three weeks at a time! I have a demanding job, a life in New York! And I don't want to have to worry about Elle being here alone with Peyton until you get home from work!" Brooke slammed a palm down on the table. _

"_I'm retiring from my job; I can stay home during the day and be with Peyton!" Larry said, "I can handle my little girl."_

"_The right thing to do," Brooke said slowly, "Would be to get her some professional help," _

"_I can handle my little girl," _

_***_

"_When are you coming back?" Elle said, clinging to Brooke. _

_Larry had followed through and retired from his job, now living at home with Peyton full-time. Three days after her conversation with Larry, Brooke made the very difficult decision to go back to New York. She sat on Elle's bed, trying to explain to the little girl why she was leaving in only a few minutes. _

"_Probably not for a while, sweetheart," Brooke said sadly, "I'm sorry,"_

"_I don't want you to go," Elle said tearfully, "Who's going to help me color pictures for mom?" _

"_Grandpa Larry is going to take such good care of you and your mom," Brooke assured the young girl. It took everything in her not to promise Elle that she was going to stay after all. "Everything's going to be fine," _

"_I love you, Brooke," Elle said, hugging Brooke once more, "I'll miss you," _

"_I love you too, sweetheart," Brooke's voice broke as she hugged her back. _

_After bidding good-bye to Elle, Brooke slowly made her way into Peyton's dark room. Peyton had not emerged for almost three days, a fine example of her depression hitting a very low point, before it would shoot back up in the blink of an eye. _

_Peyton lay in her large bed, her eyes snapping open at the sound of Brooke's footsteps. She said nothing as Brooke seated herself on the edge of the bed, looking at her friend sadly. _

"_I'm leaving, Peyton," Brooke said softly, "I'm going back to New York." _

_Peyton said nothing. _

"_I don't know when I'm going to come back, but I want you to know that you're my very best friend, and I know that somewhere inside of you, that happy, loving girl I used to know is still there. You just have to find her, find her for your daughter." _

_Peyton said nothing. _

"_I know you are better that this Peyton. I love you," _

_When Peyton failed to speak, Brooke kissed her forehead before walking toward the door again. Brooke was standing in the doorway when she heard a feeble, broken voice coming from the far side of the room. _

"_People always leave," _

Now

The tradition had started right after they adopted Joey. Every Wednesday night, after all the kids were asleep, Brooke and Julian would sip champagne while watching old re-runs of The Donna Reed show. Brooke would smile as Julian pointed out technical filming mistakes, shoddy camera pans and goofy storylines. Brooke would always tell him to shut up, and just appreciate the show for what it was: a happy, perfect family.

This Wednesday, however, The Donna Reed show was interrupted by a harsh banging on the door.

"Who the hell could that be at this hour?" Julian said, as Brooke kissed his cheek.

"I'll get it," she said, before making her way to the front door.

Brooke Davis-Baker was a happy woman, a happy woman who never thought about her painful past. She had her husband, and her kids. Everything else didn't matter.

They say that you can't change the past, but you can make sure that your future doesn't involve your past.

If that were the case, Brooke Davis-Baker's heart wouldn't have stopped in her chest when she opened her front door. She wouldn't have suddenly been hit by a tidal wave of painful memories coming back to haunt her, to uproot her perfect, happy life.

"Hello, Brooke," Anna-Elizabeth Sawyer said, "I got your letters."

**A/N:**

**Thanks SO much to all the people who reviewed!  
**

**I kind of got the idea for this plot from Bridget's storyline in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, haha. I've never written anything like this before, and let me just say that it is NOT a Lucas/Peyton story, as i'm sure most of you have probably realized by now, so I apologize if any of you were excited about that! I hope I don't lose any readers because of it :)**

**For the record, i absolutely do NOT hate Peyton! ****The whole idea for this plot was just a 'what-if' scenario that popped into my head.**** I actually really like Peyton's character on the show, even though I made her completely messed up in my story, and i'm sorry if that upsets anybody. BUT that's why it's AU :) **

**Anyway, **

**Please let me know what you thought, this is new territory for me! I really appreciate any feedback/criticism you have! Thanks again, darlings!!! **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**First, WOW! thank you to everyone who took the time to leave me a review! You all have no idea how much that boosted my confidence in writing this story. :) So I sincerely thank you all!! **

**And for all the Peyton lovers out there-if you're reading this, then this chapter might make you upset. just a disclaimer!  
**

**:) Thanks everybody!  
**

**____________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**

They say that a person can often be judged by their reaction to the unexpected. To a good surprise.

People can be divided into two categories: Those who welcome surprise, and those who do not.

There are some who enjoy the thrill of a good surprise. The way their hearts jump in their chests, the way their spines go rigid, the adrenaline rush that makes them feel buzzed. Whether it is a surprise birthday party or a zombie creeping up on them in a haunted house, they take life by the horns, living without boundaries, fear or regret.

Those who like to be surprised, shocked, thrilled, can be described as lively. Some may even call them fearless, carefree, fun or brave. Or maybe they're all just blissfully ignorant.

The ones who don't welcome the unexpected can be easily labeled as cautious. Maybe even afraid. These people don't like to be knocked off of their feet, they don't like to get blindsided. They need control, order and sanity. They have walls and boundaries, doing everything in their power to keep themselves from getting hurt.

Brooke Davis-Baker hated surprises.

_Then_

"_What kind of sandwich would you like, Matt?" Brooke asked the thirteen year old, as she, Matt and Julian settled in the kitchen for a quiet lunch. _

"_Turkey," Matt replied, as he seated himself at the kitchen table next to Julian. "with mustard," _

"_Make that two," Julian said to Brooke, grinning at Matt. _

_At first, Julian had been uneasy about fostering an adolescent boy. He had asked why she didn't want to foster a baby, or a toddler, someone who wasn't already raised and wired to act a certain way. _

_Brooke told him about Karen. Karen Roe was the woman who helped Brooke through her wild, confusing adolescence. She straightened Brooke out, she mothered her. In a way, Karen Roe had fostered Brooke. Brooke told Julian that she wanted to bestow that kind of love and guidance on some other lost teenager, because thanks to Karen, she knew that she could fix something that had been broken. _

_So Julian tried with the young boy, he brought Matt to movie sets, on grocery runs, and even just to hang out with him on lazy weekends, just watching movies and eating popcorn. It was Julian who made sure that Matt also got to know Jamie Scott, who was only two years older. Jamie, always empathetic, immediately took Matt under his wing. They were best friends in no time. _

_Brooke loved Julian for taking the time to bond with Matt. Matt had only been staying with them for a few months, but Brooke was already making plans to finalize his adoption. She was finally settling into the happy, family life she had always yearned for. _

"_Two turkey sandwiches, coming right up!" Brooke smiled at her boys, watching as Julian opened the morning newspaper. _

_It was a habit Matt and Julian had fallen into, she noticed, as Julian handed the sports page to Matt, (his love for sports influenced by Jamie and Nathan) before flipping through the pop-culture section himself. _

_The phone rang before she finished preparing the sandwiches. _

_Brooke Davis-Baker hated surprises. _

"_Hello?" she said into the phone, as Julian and Matt continued to read the paper. _

"_Is this Brooke Davis?" she heard on the other line. _

_At first, she didn't recognize his voice. But it hit her suddenly, like a ton of bricks being dropped onto her chest. She hadn't heard from him in…years. She held her breath, before speaking again. _

"_Larry…?" She asked slowly, hot, bubbling horror rising in her stomach. Why was he calling? It was surreal how easily her present happiness could be shattered by the past coming back to haunt her. It made wonder if that happiness was real, or just a mask for the pain in her heart. _

"_Brooke, it's Peyton," Larry was breathing heavily, he sounded old and tired. "She…she died, Brooke. She committed suicide." _

_Brooke could not speak. Her stomach dropped to the floor, her head felt light, her limbs felt heavy. Her nervously thumping heart constricted itself into a knot as her breath hitched in her throat. Julian rushed over to his wife as she clapped a hand to her mouth in horror, muffled whimpers escaping from under her hand. _

"_Please don't come," Larry said, "I just had to…I had to let you know," _

_The line went dead. _

_Brooke's knees buckled and she dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor as Julian held Brooke upward, concern etched in every line on his face. She clung to him, breathing deeply, desperately trying to process what had just happened. _

"_Brooke," he said, "Brooke, what happened? Who was on the phone?" _

_She gasped for air as Julian continued to keep her standing. Matt, wide-eyed in shock, watched the scene from the kitchen table. He had never seen his foster parents behave like this before. _

"_Brooke," Julian said again, "Brooke, you're scaring me," _

"_Peyton," she finally breathed, "Peyton…Peyton killed herself," _

_Julian held her as they sank down onto the kitchen floor. He rocked her in his arms as she sobbed, the shocking news causing everything around her to crumble. _

_Brooke Davis-Baker hated surprises. _

_***_

_Julian had insisted that he come with her. Brooke refused. She needed to do this on her own. _

_She had packed a bag that very night, taking the first plane out of Tree Hill, traveling back to a place where she hadn't been in years. Back to the memories she had suppressed for years. _

_Their house looked the same as it did when she had left. The grass in the front yard was slightly too long, the paint above the front porch was still peeling; two or three shingles were still missing from the roof. All the lights were on downstairs, but the window above the kitchen, Elle's room, was dark. _

_Her hands trembled as she rang the doorbell, not exactly sure if she was ready for anyone to answer. _

_It was a few moments before the front door opened, where Brooke found herself standing face to face with Larry Sawyer. _

_It was shocking how much he had aged over the last four years. His hair was gray, his eyelids heavy and his face lined. He looked worn, beaten, tired and just…old. _

"_Brooke," he said, "I asked you not to come," _

"_I-," Brooke began, realizing she had absolutely no idea what to say. "What did…how did she …how did it happen?" _

"_Pills," Larry said simply, his voice sounding as old and tired as he looked. "She overdosed last night," _

"_Oh, god," Brooke said softly, bringing a hand to her temple, "I am so sorry," _

"_Me too," Larry said_

"_Elle," Brooke breathed, "Can I see Elle?" _

"_No." Larry said abruptly, "Elle is asleep," _

"_How is she taking it?" Brooke asked, realizing that she had no idea how Elle had grown up in the last few years, she had no idea what kind of person Elle had become. _

"_Better that I am," Larry said honestly, "She's a strong girl." _

_Brooke smiled sadly, at least that hadn't changed. "When is the funeral? Is there anything I can do to help?" _

"_Brooke, I asked you not to come," Larry said again, shaking his head. "I need you to stay away from the funeral." _

"_I-," Brooke stammered, stung, "But-," _

"_I don't want to confuse Elle," he said, "It's been four years, Brooke, she hasn't seen or heard from you in four years. Now is probably the worst possible time for you to re-enter her life." _

"_I didn't…," Brooke's voice trembled, as she mentally smacked herself for getting emotional, "I didn't intend to lost contact with you," _

"_But that's what happened," Larry sighed sadly, "Look, I'm not blaming you, I just need you to stay away from her, from the funeral. I hope you can find it in your heart to understand." _

_Before Brooke could protest, Larry had retreated back into his home, shutting the door, leaving Brooke standing outside, alone in the night. _

_But she didn't stay away. She couldn't stay away. _

_Brooke observed the scene from afar, from behind a large oak tree. It was cold and cloudy outside, the wind causing leaves to dance around her ankles. She saw the casket. Peyton's casket. _

_Her heart lurched at the morbidity of it all. There should have been more people there than the twelve or so attendants gathered around the large, black casket. There should have been sad, angry rock music playing in the background, while her friends told uplifting anecdotes about her. They would have cried, but it would have been beautiful. Her best friend's funeral wasn't supposed to be like this. _

_She saw Larry, his gray hair standing out against his black suit. He had his hand on the shoulder of a tall, gangly, curly-haired blonde. _

_She was tall. Tall like Peyton. Brooke knew Elle had just turned thirteen, and even from afar, Brooke couldn't help but see her best friend through this girl, and wondered if Elle was dealing with Peyton's death the way Peyton had dealt with her mother's. She wondered if Elle listened to angry rock music, or if she liked the color red, or if all that coloring had evolved into intricate artwork. _

_Brooke wished she had stayed to get to know this girl that she had once loved as her own. _

_A single tear escaped from her eye as she saw the casket slowly being lowered to into the ground; thick, sticky guilt hardening in her heart. _

Now

Brooke Davis-Baker hated surprises.

And this particular surprise was almost too much for her to handle.

"My letters…," She said slowly, not taking her eyes off of the young girl standing before her.

She recognized her immediately, but the pure shock of seeing her _here, _of seeing her all grown up, made Brooke almost unable to breathe, let alone speak.

Elle was tall, thin and striking. Her long, blonde hair hung in loose curls down her back, her legs, long and slender. She held herself much like Peyton used to, her shoulders square, her feet slightly apart. But her eyes were not Peyton's eyes. They were a bright blue, dulled by a lifetime of pain and confusion.

"Elle," Brooke said finally, after picking her jaw back up off the ground, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, hello to you too," Elle said, her voice slightly scratchy, "You said I could come whenever I wanted. I'm just taking you up of your offer,"

Brooke noticed the large, beat-up duffel bag over Elle's shoulder, wondering how she had gotten here all the way from LA. "Sweetheart, are you in trouble? Do you need money?"

"No!" Elle said, almost looking offended. "I don't need your money. Although it looks like you have plenty of it." She gestured to the large, elaborate foyer behind Brooke.

Brooke studied her. Elle was a sweet, sensitive girl. Or at least she was nine years ago. This Elle looked tough and hardened, like she was arriving home from war.

"Look, I'm just trying to find answers." Elle said, "That's what I'm doing here."

Brooke wasn't at all sure what Elle meant by 'answers', but did not hesitate to invite her inside. Elle looked around the foyer, with an expression on her face that Brooke couldn't read.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" She asked, squeezing her hands together, nervously.

"I'm actually really tired," Elle replied, "I'd just like to rest, if you don't mind,"

As much as Brooke wanted to sit Elle down and interrogate her, she nodded her head, leading Elle upstairs to the spare bedroom across the hall from her own. Elle thanked her, quickly shutting the door before Brooke could ask any more questions of her.

Julian was still seated on the couch when Brooke walked back into the living room, in a slight daze.

"Who was that?" he asked, standing up, noting the shocked look on Brooke's face. "Is everything okay?"

"That," Brooke said slowly, "was Elle Sawyer,"

"Elle Sawyer as in…Peyton Sawyer?" Julian's brow furrowed as Brooke nodded, "What is she doing here?"

"I think she's in some kind of trouble," Brooke took a deep breath. "She said she's looking for answers."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Julian asked

"I don't know," Brooke brought a palm to her forehead. "After Peyton died, Larry refused to let me see her when I went to LA. He said she felt I had abandoned her, for not keeping in touch after I left. So I wrote her letters. I had to tell her that I never wanted to lose touch, and I would never abandon her. I wrote her letters for almost two years. "

"I guess she's here about the letters, then," Julian reasoned

"But I sent the last letter over four years ago. She never replied to a single one." Brooke said "Why is she here now? I think she ran away from home. I really should call Larry."

"Not yet. Talk to her first, you can call him in the morning." Julian pulled Brooke into a comforting hug. "Chill, everything's going to be okay. This is all going to work out."

"Elle Sawyer is in Tree Hill," Brooke said wonderingly.

Surprising news can knock anyone off their feet, whether they welcome it or not. It has the power to cause uproar, change opinions, and alter lives completely.

"Brooke," Julian said, urgently, "does _he _know about her?"

But the worst thing about a surprise is not knowing what to expect once the dust has settled.

"No." Brooke said, her eyes widening with the same sudden realization, "He doesn't even know she exists."

* * *

*******Suicide is never something anyone should take lightly, even if they are just including it in a fictional story. If you're feeling suicidal, please don't hesitate to get some help, by speaking to someone you can trust, or even just calling a suicide hotline in your local area. Suicide is never the answer. There is _always _hope, and you are not alone.*******

**Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! PLEEEEEEEEEASE leave a review, I benefit so much from your criticism/feedback!!! **

**Love, Brennan ♥  
**


	4. Chapter 4

** thank you SO SO SO SOOO much to everyone who reviewed!!!**

* * *

Lucas Scott was a successful man.

Some may beg to differ, saying that Lucas Scott's success fizzled out after he failed to ever publish a second novel. They might even say that he was wasting his time coaching high school basketball, while his wife brought home all the bacon.

But Lucas Scott considered himself a successful man. Because to him, success was based on satisfaction. He had a satisfying job. He had his beautiful wife, and his beautiful daughter. He was in a place where he had finally settled down with the people he loved. Lucas Scott was satisfied; therefore, Lucas Scott was successful.

His success, however, didn't come easy. His adolescence had been plagued by an overbearing, hateful, murderous father, the death of his beloved uncle, heart disease, car accidents, chaos and confusion. It's a wonder Lucas Scott made it out intact.

Not only did he make it out intact, he turned his painful life story into a best selling novel, a novel that inspired millions all over the world.

But Lucas Scott hadn't been able to even look at his novel since things went south with him and his first true love, especially after what happened to her, knowing how_ her_ story really ended.

He had always been quick to bounce back. He was strong, he was a fighter. Lucas liked to believe that every hurdle, every injury, every tragedy he overcame, only made him that much stronger.

He met Lindsey Strauss when he was on the rebound from a broken heart. A relationship that had begun with "_true love always" _came to a screeching halt in a hotel room in LA.

Lindsey was only supposed to be a rebound. Instead, she captured his heart with her kindness and charm, healing the wounds caused by the ending of his previous relationship. He loved her, she loved him.

So they married, and moved into his mother's house, the house Lucas had grown up in. Lindsey got a job as the editor of Tree Hill's local newspaper. He never wrote another novel, but his love of basketball, and the glory days of his high school years on the team, brought him back to Tree Hill High as the varsity boy's basketball coach.

Grace was everything Lucas and Lindsey dreamed of in a child. A perfect mix of both parents, she had Lucas's sandy blonde hair and Lindsey's striking gray eyes. She had her father's knack for writing, and her mother's cleanliness and tact. At fifteen, Grace was a sophomore in high school, top in her class.

Late at night, Lucas often found her reading a book when she should have been sleeping. It started when she was a little girl, sitting under her comforter with a flashlight. Grace's late night reading habit did not break as she got older, Lucas still having to poke his head in her room, telling her to get some rest.

Tonight was no different.

"Gracie," Lucas whispered, "It's late,"

Grace looked up from the spot on her bed, her brow furrowing.

"Daa-aad," she moaned, "Just let me finish this chapter; I'm really into the story,"

Lucas smiled, appreciating his daughter's love for books. "What are you reading?"

Grace held up the small book in her hands, and Lucas's stomach lurched when he realized that it was his own. A book he never wanted to see again, a life that pained him to think about.

"It's really good, dad!" Grace exclaimed, unaware of her father's sudden change in mood, "I can't believe you've only written one book."

"I thought I told you that I didn't want you reading that," Lucas said, his temper suddenly flaring up, "Give it to me."

What's your problem, dad?" Grace said, "I know the Peyton Sawyer story anyway. It's all my friends talk about. They love this book."

"I don't want you reading that!" Lucas said again, his voice growing louder.

"Why, dad?" Grace demanded, "Is it because of how Peyton Sawyer died a few years ago?"

"Grace Karen Scott," Lucas said sternly, "Give me that book right now!"

Even the most successful, satisfied men lose their cool now and again. Especially when their displeasure was caused by something that reminded them of a time when they were not successful-a painful memory from a difficult past. Lucas Scott always became extremely distraught at any mention of Peyton Sawyer in his house; something his daughter learned when her father snatched the book from right out of her hands.

"It's not like I haven't heard it all from my friends anyway! I wanted to read the story myself!" She called after him, as Lucas exited her room, closing the door loudly behind him, clutching his own published work in his shaking hands.

_Then_

_The three of them sat there, trying to process what Brooke had just said. _

_It had always been the five of them, the tightest-knit group in Tree Hill. Lucas, Peyton, Brooke, Haley and Nathan. Together they were unstoppable, surviving school shootings, love triangles, deception, and bad people. After everything their group had been through, they knew that they were unstoppable. _

_Until the epic romance that was Lucas and Peyton came to a screeching, unexpected halt.  
_

_ Even when Peyton fell off of their radar after high school, the four of them remained extremely close friends. None of them, besides Brooke, had heard any news of her in years, not since things ended between her and Lucas. _

"_Suicide?" Nathan finally spoke, as tears pooled in Haley's eyes. "Are you serious?" _

_Brooke nodded solemnly, explaining to her three closest friends about how she had just arrived back from LA, after an earth shattering call from Larry Sawyer sent her rushing over there four days ago. _

"_She was sick," Brooke said, "Depressed, scared, confused, and mentally unstable." _

"_I just…," Haley said, "I just can't believe it. We haven't heard from Peyton in what…," _

"_Thirteen years." Lucas finally spoke, "It's been thirteen years." _

_Brooke was the only one in the group who had kept in touch with Peyton after college. She told her friends about how the death of Peyton's husband drove her into a serious, clinical depression, how Larry refused to get her professional help, how she had morphed into a scared, lost, emotional trainwreck. _

_Something in Lucas's mouth soured at the mention of Peyton's husband. When had she gotten married? Where had they been when all of this was happening to a girl they all used to love and care about? _

"_Hey, you three," Haley said suddenly, looking across the room where her children sat, listening intently to the adults' conversation. "Stop eavesdropping!" _

_Haley and Nathan's kids all went rigid at the sound of their mother's voice. _

"_Busted!" the middle one hissed to the youngest. _

"_Jamie," Nathan said to the oldest, "Why don't you take Hannah and Gabe outside to shoot some hoops," _

_Fourteen year-old Jamie nodded, leading his younger brother and sister, nine year old Hannah and five year old Gabriel, across the room and out the back door. _

"_I didn't even know she was married," Lucas said, after the kids had disappeared outside, "I didn't know about any of it." _

"_Neither did we," Haley whispered, "It's so surreal." _

_Nathan put his arm around his wife as she buried her face in her hands. _

"_Why didn't you tell us about any of this?" Lucas asked Brooke, "all these years, she was sick and you never said anything." _

"_I…," Brooke said, guilt swelling in her chest. "I know I shouldn't have kept it from you. Peyton made me promise not to tell any of you." _

"_I don't understand why…," Haley said, looking up again. "We were her closest friends." _

"_She was ashamed." Brooke said simply. "She was ashamed about what she had become, who she had become. I think she never wanted to tell any of you was because she wanted you guys to remember her as who she was when we all graduated high school. The girl who was going to make it big in LA. She just wanted all of you to remember her as successful." _

Now

"Grace was reading this," Lucas handed the book to Lindsey, as he entered their room. "Ravens."

"It was bound to happen eventually, Lucas," Lindsey said, climbing into the large, four-poster pillow-top bed they shared. "I think she's old enough to read your book."

"I just…," Lucas sighed, "I don't want to bring all of that up. I hate talking about my past."

"Luke, I know it's painful for you to relive all of that, knowing how it ended," Lindsey said reasonably, as Lucas joined her in bed and turning the lamp off. "She has a right to know about her father's past, even if it involves another woman with a tragic ending. She's old enough to understand that you had a life before us; an exciting one worth reading, at that."

Maybe what had made Lucas Scott so successful was his ability to block out those memories that had pained him from the past, giving his heart strength. If he was able to collect them all and turn them into a novel, then it would only make sense that he could make them go away as well. He had moved on, leaving the past in the past.

But sometimes, a person's past is linked to their fate. And not even the most satisfied, successful man can outrun fate.

"I just don't want to relive any of it." Lucas said into the blackness, "Peyton Sawyer is dead, and I don't want any lingering memories of her in my life."

* * *

**Okay, don't kill me for putting Lucas with Lindsey. Sorry!!! I actually never minded Lindsey, ****I always felt bad how she got hated on sooo much during the show, when she was actually a nice characte**r. **Of course i loved Leyton more, but for this particular story, that's just how everything played out. **

**So the plot will finally start to kick off in the next chapter (yah!), but I will continue to have flashbacks pf Brooke/Peyton/Elle's past. **

**_Please_ tell me what you think of my story so far, and anything I can do to improve!!! I'm open to any suggestions you have! Thanks soooooo much!!! :)**

**Love, Brennan  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, hellooooo!!! :)**

**FIRST-thank you for all of the reviews! Your generosity continues to blow me away! **

**and SECOND-I'm sorry for not updating as frequently as I have in the past! I've been busy, and I know that sounds like a line, but it's very true!! But as soon as winter break begins, i should be updating a lot more often! But until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! **

* * *

_Then_

_She got the call at three in the morning. _

"_Brooke," Peyton sobbed over the phone, for what seemed like the fifth time that week. Peyton Sawyer had been an absolute mess ever since her break-up with Lucas earlier that month, phoning Brooke, who was all the way in New York at the time. _

"_Peyton, it's the middle of the night." Brooke's voice sounded groggy on the other line, Are you okay?"_

"_I'm pregnant, Brooke," Peyton was completely hysterical. "I'm pregnant, and Lucas left me! I am having Lucas Scott's baby."_

_After a long flight from New York to Los Angeles, lots of tears and crying, a very tired Brooke found herself holding Peyton's hand at a local clinic, as the blonde prepared to go in for her very first pregnancy check-up. _

"_P. Sawyer, are you sure you don't want to call Lucas?" Brooke asked, as Peyton nervously drummed her free hand on her knee. _

"_No." Peyton said, "I am NOT calling him. And neither are you." _

"_Peyton, you really shouldn't keep this from him." Brooke replied, "He has the right to know." _

"_He doesn't want anything to do with me, Brooke! He left me! And frankly, I just want to forget about Tree Hill, forget about Lucas and his stupid book and his stupid ultimatum, and just start my life. I'm sick of feeling like this, feeling sad all the time." Peyton sat up a little in her chair. "This baby will never know Tree Hill or Lucas Scott."_

Now

It was early.

The kind of early that makes it seem like everyone in the whole world is asleep. The kind of early where the air was still, the sky was dark, and if someone was awake to experience this kind of early, they would not hear anything but the ringing in their own ears.

Elle had always had trouble sleeping, ever since she was little. Whether it was a nightmare keeping her awake, or her mother crying in the next room, Elle regularly found herself lying awake in bed, picking out shapes and designs in the cracks on the ceiling.

She needed a cigarette.

It still didn't seem real that Grandpa Larry had been buried in the ground not even a week ago. It also didn't seem real that she was lying in an elaborately decorated guest bedroom on the other side of the country. Actually, nothing about her current situation seemed real at all. Nothing, that is, except the thick, muddy guilt weighing down her insides. Why had she been yelling at Grandpa Larry so loudly, so angrily? She knew how to keep her emotions in check, why had she decided to snap at that particular moment? She knew better than to yell at poor Grandpa Larry, a man whose health and well-being had been slowly weathered away by a lifetime of hardship. Yelling at Grandpa Larry was like kicking a puppy.

And look where it got her. She had yelled at him, screamed at him. Now he was dead. Elle didn't know if she dare blame herself for this; she always forced herself to dwell on a different subject before her mind could further elaborate on the matter. For if she allowed herself to fully take the blame for what had happened, she knew that she would lose it completely. And losing it was _not _an option.

It was strange, no matter how tight this guilt constricted her stomach, she could not cry. Maybe it was because the initial shock of the matter had not yet gone away, or maybe it was because Elle had always trained herself to be strong, to be the rock between her emotionally unstable mother and her overly stressed grandfather.

She was actually here, here in Tree Hill. She was in Brooke Davis's house, the woman who provided the few pleasant memories of her rocky childhood, the woman who, contrary to what she had believed for years, still cared for her, and still loved her.

Elle rolled over, glancing at the clock on the bedside table.

_5:07 am. _

She really needed a cigarette.

She slid out of bed, slipping into a pair of jeans and a tank top. Using her cell phone to light the dark room, she grabbed pack of cigarettes and lighter out of her duffel bag before stepping into the hallway.

When Elle was younger, she had never been allowed to invite any of her friends over. Grandpa Larry always said that other kids wouldn't understand her mother's condition. If ever asked why she never had anyone over, Elle was told to simply reply "My mother is too ill for company."

Ever since the establishment of this rule, Elle had become fascinated with spending the night over at other people's houses. She was always so terribly curious to see how other families lived-to see how families without manic depressive mothers lived. How normal families lived. She never grew tired of the feeling it gave her, a sense of stepping into other people's lives. She always had studied how her friends' families interacted with one another, if they had pictures on the walls, if they said grace before meals.

Something Elle always noticed about these homes was that tension, something that was extremely prominent in her own home, did not exist. Nobody tensed up when their mothers entered the room, or had to force polite conversation as to not upset anyone. They were relaxed, happy in their own homes. And that almost always made Elle jealous.

She also liked to take notice of how the house was decorated, how it was kept. Elle loved when a family had shoes kicked off at the front door, or dishes in the sink, or even newspapers on the table. These places looked lived in. Larry kept their house painfully, immaculately clean, more like a hospital than a house, for the slightest mess sent her mother into a screaming fit.

What Elle liked about this particular house was how it was extremely extravagant and well-decorated, yet still had the quality of being cozy, warm and welcoming. As she quietly tip-toed down the large marble staircase, Elle studied the many pictures hanging on the wall, of Brooke, Julian, and three younger people who, she assumed, to be Brooke and Julian's children.

There was a picture sitting on a small table near entrance to the kitchen that made Elle stop in her tracks, her heart hammering in her chest as she clutched the small box of Marlboro lights a little too tightly in her hand.

A group of teenagers standing under a large archway of balloons smiled back at her from inside the bronze frame. They were dressed up, prom, she assumed, and didn't look much older than Elle was now. She recognized Brooke, who wore a short sequined dress, standing next to two spiky haired boys in ridiculously retro tuxedos. Her stomach gave a leap when she saw her mother a few people over from Brooke, leaning into a handsome boy in a white tuxedo.

It was strange, seeing her mother looking the way she did in this photograph. She looked beautiful, in a long, sky blue dress, her hair in loose curls. But the thing that Elle found so strange looking about this version of her mother was how unbelievably…happy she seemed. Her eyes were bright and full of life, her skin glowed, her face was round and healthy looking, instead of the frail, gaunt woman Elle had known all of her life.

She really, really needed a cigarette.

Elle's mind raced as she took deep, calming drags of her freshly lit cigarette on the long dock leading to the beach behind Brooke's house. The sun was slowly beginning to creep up from behind the ocean. She knew that coming to Tree Hill mean uncovering the things she had always wanted to know about her mother's past, the things Larry had never told her, the things her mother never told her…but Elle was unprepared for the uneasy knot that had formed in her stomach as a result of just seeing a single picture. Would all the reminders of Peyton Sawyer be this strange, instead of liberating, as she had hoped they would be?

"When you were little, you used to wake me up so we could watch the sun rise together," The sudden raspy voice cut through the silence, making Elle jump. Spinning around, she saw Brooke standing a few feet behind her.

When Elle was younger, she thought that Brooke was the most stunning, beautiful person in the world. Her mother was beautiful too, but she was so thin, so frail and sick. Brooke was strong and stunning, and Elle had guiltily, secretly wished that she looked more like Brooke, instead of thin, blonde and curly like her mom.

"I remember." Elle said softly, "You always said sunrises were always more beautiful than sunsets, because something new was beginning, instead of ending,"

"That's right," Brooke smiled sadly, and then noticed the cigarette in Elle's hand. "In my house, we don't do that,"

For a split-second, Elle looked slightly annoyed, and Brooke was reminded of a surly teenaged Peyton, who never liked people telling her what to do. Elle put the cigarette out on the wooded railing, mumbling an apology before turning to face the beach again.

Brooke watched her carefully. Although she had seen her last night, the figure that was Elle Sawyer was still a shocking sight. She was, without a doubt, the little girl from Los Angeles, the little girl who always put on a happy face for her mom, but could never disguise that permanent look of anguish in her eyes.

"I've never been to the east coast before. I spent my whole life in LA." Elle faced Brooke once more, her long, blonde hair billowing slightly in the wind. "It's beautiful here."

Elle's voice sounded heavy, almost sad. Brooke looked into the young girl's blue eyes. That pain, that anguish, was still there. That's something that hadn't changed.

"Let's go for a walk, Elle." Brooke said, gesturing toward the beach, "We have a lot of catching up to do."

They walked through the sand in silence for a few minutes. Before Brooke could ask about Elle's well-being, Elle beat her to the punch, asking how Brooke has been holding up these last nine years.

Brooke realized that Elle was cleverly dancing around the subject of why she had come here all of the sudden, as though she was afraid to bring it up.

But Brooke filled her in on Matt, Joey, and Avery, her business, Julian's movies, and other little fun facts about her family and life after she had left LA nine years ago. Elle smiled at the many short anecdotes Brooke told, most about her children.

The sun had fully risen in the clear blue sky, and Brooke felt as though she had talked herself silly. And Elle had not said a thing, just nodded and smiled at the appropriate pauses in between Brooke's sentences.

And Brooke would not have that.

She stopped in the sand, which was beginning to warm her feet in the morning sun, and faced Elle. Elle stopped, looking surprised at Brooke's sudden change of pace.

"Elle," Brooke said gently, "what are you doing here?"

Elle signed, and spoke for the first time since they had began walking. "I found your letters the other day, in an old box in the basement. My grandpa hid them from me, he hid all of them. I had no idea you had been writing to me, if I had, I would have been here a lot sooner."

Brooke's heart broke, but at the same time it soared. All of these years, she had thought that Elle had been angry at her for leaving, and chose to ignore her. But it was a misunderstanding. Elle was not here in spite of Brooke, she was here to clear up a misunderstanding.

"Elle, does Larry know that you're here?" Brooke asked, "Did you run away from home?"

Elle hesitated, and for a few moments, Brooke thought that she knew what the answer was. Her mind quickly played a scenario in her head of her coaxing Elle to call Larry, after she had a few days to chill out. He would come here and pick her up and thank Brooke for keeping her safe. They would tie up all the lose ends, and reestablish the relationships they once had. They would eventually go back to LA, but Brooke and Elle would keep in touch and visit often. A happy ending to the story.

Maybe these last couple of happy years had turned Brooke soft, because the words that came out of Elle's mouth were nothing like the scenario in Brooke's mind.

"Brooke…," Elle said slowly, "My grandpa died. Heart attack."

Brooke's heart stopped. It was shocking, like an unexpected blow to the stomach. She wanted to cry, but withheld from doing so in front of Elle. Brooke had never cried in front of Elle.

"Wh-," Her voice trembled terribly before she took a deep breath, "When?"

"On Sunday," Elle said, her voice calm.

"But…it's only Thursday!" Brooke slowly brought a hand to her mouth, the shock was overwhelming. "Oh my God, sweetheart, are you okay?"

Elle nodded, brushing off Brooke's sympathy. "Look, I'm eighteen, I just graduated high school. I need a job and a place to stay; I can't stand being in that house anymore. So when I found your letters, it was like fate."

Brooke stared at this girl as she continued to speak. There was something elegant and mature about Elle, the same something that Brooke used to see in Peyton.

"There is nothing left for me in LA. Nothing except sad, painful memories. I just want to forget about Los Angeles and everything that it meant to me." Elle continued, her voice strong and passionate, as though she was reading a powerful monologue, "I don't know where I'm going, but I know I can't go back. I came here to start my life. That's what I'm doing here."

"Every day I used to kick myself for letting time and tragedy tear us apart. I would play all these what-ifs over in my head, you know, what if I had stayed, what if I had kept in touch…So maybe you being here is kind of my fate too." Brooke smiled sadly, taking Elle by the hand, leading her back up the beach. "I'm glad you're here, Elle."

* * *

**Meh, i was not fully satisfied with this chapter, but a burning desire to get it finished kept me writing! :)**

**PLEEEEEEEEEASE please please let me know what you think!!! Likes? Dislikes? Ideas? I'd love the feedback!!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!  
**

**Love Brennan!!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**HELLO EVERYONE :) sorry about the wait on this one, I've been pretty busy. **

**So, I am rewarding all of you avid readers with a very long chapter. Now, this was originally going to be two chapters, but I feel that it works better as one big monster chapter. :) Let me know what you think! **

**

* * *

**

Though usually unappreciated, a parent's guidance is probably one of the most influential things in a person's life. If a child is biologically wired to instinctively love their parents, then it only seems logical that they would instinctively be influenced by them as well.

If a republican parent is raising a child, then that child, not yet forming opinions of their own, will most likely be in favor of the Republican Party, based solely on their parents' beliefs. If a vegetarian never allows their child to eat meat, then this child will most likely grow up a vegetarian as well.

This isn't true for everyone, of course, for a person can be influenced by an astounding number of other things; by a TV show, by song lyrics, by strangers, by friends, family, literature, teachers, etc. But influence is strongest when it is in the form of guidance.

Elle grew up with many influences, but not a lot of guidance.

Brooke insisted on making an extravagant breakfast.

Elle couldn't remember the last time that she had actually eaten breakfast. She usually just had a cigarette in the morning. She would, however, go out of her way to cook breakfast for her mom and her grandpa as often as she could. Grandpa Larry used to make meals for her when she was younger, but after her mother's death, he really didn't do much of anything at all. The parental guidance in _her _home was lacking greatly.

Breakfast never seemed like it was that important, anyway. She was never hungry in the morning. It was pointless to force herself to eat when she wasn't hungry. A cigarette in the morning always did the trick. She certainly did not pick _that _up from anyone in her family.

But no matter how pointless she thought breakfast was, it was even _more _pointless to argue with Brooke about it. She didn't know Brooke that well anymore, but the memories of her were embedded in Elle's mind forever. Brooke had cooked, cleaned, shopped for their groceries, did the laundry...Elle had always thought of her as some kind of supermom. When she was young, Brooke was Elle's greatest influence. While her own mother was too distraught to even leave her bed at times, Brooke was always there to make sure things got done. Brooke had always made Elle eat her breakfast.

Apparently, the nine year gap between then and now did not change Brooke's opinion on breakfast, for Elle found herself sitting in Brooke's beautiful kitchen, sand still caked on her ankles from her walk on the beach earlier that morning. She listened to the sizzling sound of bacon frying on the stove as the delectable smell filled the air.

"So, you're from California? That's what mom said,"

Shortly after their return from the beach, Elle was introduced to Brooke's two younger children. Avery was a beautiful little girl, with her dark almond eyes and shiny, straight black hair, grinning from her booster seat. Joseph, with his tan skin and dark brown hair looked inquisitively back at Elle from across the table, waiting for her to answer his question.

"That's right," Elle replied, as she glanced at Brooke, who was pouring batter into a waffle maker, smiling to herself, as though enjoying the thought of Elle interacting with her children; her two worlds, the then and the now, coming together.

"That's _so cool!_" Joey said, "Did you live next door to a movie star?"

"No," Elle couldn't help but laugh at Joey's curiosity, "I lived in a small house, in a quiet neighborhood with my grandpa,"

Julian entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes, and kissed Brooke on the cheek.

"Whadda 'bout your mommy and daddy?" Avery asked from her booster seat, and Elle saw Brooke tense up out of the corner of her eye, glancing at Julian.

"Ah, my parents passed away a long time ago," Elle tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "But it's okay,"

"I hope _my _mommy and daddy never die," Avery mused, "Even though I'm adopted! From China!"

"Me too!" Joey added, "From Brazil!"

It was something that always made Elle wonder. If Joey and Avery hadn't been adopted by Brooke and Julian, they could have been completely different people. They could have been speaking another language, they could have had different interests, different mannerisms. Nature vs. Nurture was something Elle couldn't help but be fascinated with, for it applied to her as well. If her mom had not married her step dad, but stuck with the birthfather, then maybe Elle would have been raised differently too.

"I was adopted too," Elle said, "by my step dad,"

"That's _so _cool!" Joey said again, "You're just like us!"

"How were you adopted by your daddy but not your mommy?" Avery asked,

"My real dad couldn't take care of me, so my mom married someone who could," Elle tried to make this sound simple, not wanting to divulge any further on the subject of her family, "And he adopted me,"

"And then they died?" Joey asked, as though Elle was simply telling him a bedtime story, and he was curious to find out what happened next.

"Yep," She said, taking a sip out of her orange juice. She could feel both Brooke and Julian listening to their conversation as they prepared breakfast.

"But what about your real daddy?" Avery asked, "Did you meet him when your parents died?"

Joey and Avery were awfully persistent, but Elle was surprised that she was not at all annoyed with their constant questions. She had seen quite a few therapists in her lifetime, and her annoyance at the persistence of their questions never faltered. But it was different with these kids. Maybe she was just forcing herself to be polite, for all of their sakes, or maybe it was simply because they were only children, not wanting to know so they could shrink her or analyze her feelings, but wanting to know just to _know_; out of pure and innocent curiosity.

"Nope," Elle answered little Avery, "I've never met him. I have no idea who he is,"

"It's okay," Joey shrugged, "Me and Avery don't know our real parents either,"

Elle was only half listening to him, for she saw Julian shoot Brooke an urgent glance, subtly gesturing to the hallway.

"Joey, do you want flip the bacon for me?" Brooke quickly asked her son, who jumped up excitedly, taking the spatula from Brooke, "Daddy and I will be right back,"

As Brooke and Julian stepped out of the kitchen, Joey suddenly covered his face in embarrassment, while Avery giggled wildly. Elle, clearly missing something, looked from Joey to Avery, confused.

"What's going on?" she asked, as Avery continued to giggle.

"Mom and Dad always step out of the room when the want to _kiss_," Joey moaned through his fingers, "Ugh,"

Avery made kissing noises at Joey as he uncovered his face to flip the bacon. He scowled at his little sister, and Avery giggled again.

Brooke and Julian, however, did not kiss when they stepped out of the kitchen and into the foyer, but whispered heatedly to each other, not wanting the three inhabitants of the kitchen to overhear.

"We can't say anything about Lucas!" Brooke said quietly, "Not yet, she just got here, Julian,"

"It's only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan," Julian retorted, "Tree Hill is a small town, she could run into Lucas, or Lindsey, Grace, Nathan, Haley, or hell, even just pick up a copy of that damn book!"

"I have successfully kept this a secret for _eighteen _years. We are the _only _people who know about Elle Sawyer. Me and you." Brooke gestured wildly to make up for the lack of volume in her voice, "This can't get out yet."

"Brooke-," Julian began,

"I made a promise," Brooke hissed, "I promised my _best friend_ that her child wouldn't get hurt by the man who hurt her the most."

"But this is wrong. It's not fair to Lucas, and it's definitely not fair to Elle," Julian said firmly. "The longer we keep this hidden, the messier it's going to get."

Before Brooke could answer, their hushed conversation was interrupted by a pair of footsteps making their way down the stairs. Brooke wheeled around and found herself facing a boxer-clad Matt, who had obviously just rolled out of bed.

"Morning," Matt yawned, clapping Julian on the shoulder as he made to go into the kitchen, unaware of the criptic discussion that he had interrupted.

"Whoa, hold on," Julian grabbed Matt by the arm, "You might want to put some clothes on before you go in there,"

"Wait…what? Why?" Matt asked, looking from Julian to Brooke, "What's going on?"

"There's a pretty girl in the kitchen," Julian smirked, and Brooke softly hit him on the arm, rolling her eyes.

"My old friend's daughter is here from California," Brooke quickly explained, "She arrived late last night. She's looking for a summer job here, and she's going to stay with us."

"Is it Peyton's daughter?" Matt asked, receiving shocked looks from both Brooke and Julian.

"You know about Peyton?" Brooke asked, panic swelling in her chest. If Matt knew, then who else did?

"Yeah, I remember you used to talk about her all the time," Matt said, "She's Lucas's kid too, right?"

Brooke clapped a hand over the teenager's mouth, her heart racing. "Shh! Nobody knows about that! _She_ doesn't even know about that! Matthew Baker, _how _the _hell _did you find out about this?"

"Reeeelax!" Matt laughed at Brooke's sudden frazzled face, "I used to hear you and Julian talking about her, and Lucas, and Peyton. I never told anyone, don't worry."

Brooke and Julian continued to stare at their oldest adopted son, confounded.

"So I was a nosy little eavesdropper," Matt shrugged, "Sue me,"

"Just go get dressed," Brooke sighed; feeling oddly tired all of the sudden. No matter how physically in shape she was, the burden of stress always exhausted her. Matt turned and climbed back up the staircase. Brooke glanced at her husband. "Julian…,"

"I'll make sure all of his facts are straight, don't worry," Julian rubbed a circle around Brooke's back, before following Matt up the stairs.

A large, heavy block of lead sat in the bottom of Brooke's stomach. She knew deep down in her heart that Elle was going to find out eventually, especially now that she was staying here. And the last thing Brooke wanted was for this girl to be ambushed by somebody else, _especially _Lucas. Brooke knew that she was going to be the one to tell Elle about her father…When the time was right.

And at this moment, the time was not right.

She returned to the kitchen to find Elle standing at the stove, adding more batter to the waffle iron.

"Elle, hon, you don't have to do that," Brooke said, walking over to her. Joey was seated at the kitchen table, showing Avery how to make a hat out of the morning newspaper.

Elle shrugged, looking up at Brooke, "It's no big deal, I grew up making my family breakfast,"

Brooke's heart gave a twinge at these words. Not only did she feel guilty about Lucas, she couldn't help but feel guilty about how Elle had to do grow up doing things for her mother that most children never cared to even think about.

"Where'd Julian go?" Elle asked, more for the sake of conversation than anything else.

"Oh, he, uh, went to go wake Matt up." Brooke said quickly, as Joey gave a sigh.

"Matt _always _sleeps late," the nine year old said, as his little sister nodded her head in agreement.

"So, Brooke," Elle said, taking a waffle and placing it onto her ceramic plate, "About a job…,"

"You can work in my store," Brooke said, "I've been meaning to get myself a new assistant ever since Millicent and Mouth moved to Charlotte."

Brooke had thought about this throughout the morning. If she had Elle working in her store, then it would be much easier to monitor her, to make sure that Elle didn't run into Lucas around town.

She wasn't _keeping_ Elle from Lucas, she kept telling herself, she was just…protecting the both of them from the inevitable uproar it would cause if the two were to meet. Well, at least meet before Brooke was able to tell the both of them the truth.

"Really?" Elle asked, grinning, "At your clothing store?"

"Absolutely," Brooke replied, "You'd be good there,"

"Awesome! Thank you, Brooke!" Elle exclaimed, her eyes lighting up, "When do I start? Can we go by there today? I want to start working as soon as possible!"

"I think that you should take it easy for a few days," Brooke said, eyeing Elle carefully, "It's been a tough week for you."

Elle frowned slightly, disappointed. She did not like to be babied, doted on, put on a pedestal. Sure, it had been one whirlwind of a week, with finding the letters, Larry passing, and the impromptu pilgrimage to Tree Hill, but the mere chaos of everything happening so fast distracted Elle from having to process it, to deal with it, to _grieve. _

Elle was never one for grieving; her mom had always grieved enough for the both of them. And besides, it all seemed so weak and so silly. Wasn't it just easier to cut to the chase and accept what happened and move on? Either that or block it out, something Elle had mastered over the years. But it was more challenging to block out the bad feelings when her mind wasn't occupied with something else. It was bad enough during the night, where she would lie awake in bed, her mind wandering faster than she could reel it back in, but taking it easy during the day would be almost agonizing.

Before Elle could protest to this, however, her conversation with Brooke was cut short by the reappearance of Julian, followed by a teenage boy whom she assumed was Brooke and Julian's oldest son, Matt.

"Well, look who finally decided to wake up," Joey said from the table, a newspaper hat atop his head.

Matt smiled at Joey, before his eyes snapped onto Elle. She wasn't paying attention to the fact that he was eying her, for she was doing the very same to him. He was very, _very _good looking, with his dark brown hair, blue eyes and, Elle couldn't help but stare, very athletic body.

"Matt," Brooke said, hastily making introductions, "This is Elle Sawyer, she's visiting from Los Angeles. Elle, this is my son Matt. He graduated from High School this year as well,"

Matt smiled warmly at Elle, extending his hand toward her. "It's nice to meet you,"

"You too," Elle quickly plastered a confident smile across her face as she shook his hand.

"So, Matt, Elle has never been to Tree Hill before," Brooke said, "Why don't you show her around town today? I was going to do it myself, but I think she's have more fun with someone her own age to interact with. What do you say?"

"Sure," Matt shrugged, "As long as it's cool with Elle,"

Elle looked from Brooke, who was smiling a little too eagerly, to Matt, who had his hands in his pockets, a small, sideways grin on his face. At least a tour of the town would keep her busy. "Yeah, yeah, that's fine! Just let me go shower first,"

"Awesome!" Brooke clapped her hands together.

As soon as Elle had disappeared upstairs to shower, Brooke turned to Matt, while Julian took Joey and Avery into the backyard. "Matt, you have to _promise _me that you won't say anything about Lucas to her today. No matter how hot or beautiful you think she is or whatever."

"Brooke, what's that go to do with-,"

"Oh please," Brooke placed her hands on her hips, "I saw you eyeing her up and down, and I have known one too many boys who have a weakness for Sawyer girls. It's like poison to your brain. But promise me-,"

"Brooke," Matt said, shaking his head, "For the millionth time, I _won't _say anything. Promise."

"Okay," Brooke breathed, "And one more thing, keep her away from any Scott's today. I have to explain this whole thing to everyone before any Scott-Sawyer interactions, because I can guarantee you it would erupt into a big, emotional catastrophic mess, and I'm going to be the one cleaning it up."

"Even though you're technically the one who _made _the mess in the first place," Matt smirked, as Brooke folded her arms.

"Very funny," Brooke said flatly, as Matt narrowed his eyes at her, slightly amused. Brooke waved her arms wildly at him, "Oh, don't you look at me like that! I'm handling this! Just _keep her away _from them today. Okay?"

"Whatever you say," Matt shook his head again. "It's going to be weird, you know, me knowing all these secrets about her but pretending not to,"

"Trust me," Brooke sighed, "This girl has a lot going on right now; adding Lucas to the mixture _won't _make anything better for her. We're all still getting to know her. It's better to ease into this than dive head-first. Just…trust me."

* * *

"So, LA, huh?" He asked her, as they walked up a grassy trail just off the main road, "Did you live next door to a movie star?"

Although Joey had been serious when he asked Elle the very same question that morning, and Matt was joking, Elle couldn't help but laugh at the irony of both of them asking her that.

"What is it with you east coast kids thinking that everyone from California hangs out with the rich and famous?" She snorted, "I lived a quiet little neighborhood no where near the _movie stars," _

Matt laughed at this, and Elle smiled. They had been all over town, the warm summer sun beating down on Elle's bare shoulders. He had first taken her to the Brooke's clothing store, to the high school, to various other shops and boutiques, the pier and finally, whatever was at the top of this grassy hill.

"Alright, what about…sports?" Matt said, making conversation, "Any favorites?"

He was very talkative, Elle noticed, and was not at all awkward about carting a girl whom he had just met, around town all afternoon. Though more closed and reserved, Elle was greatly enjoying his company.

"To watch or to play?" she asked.

"You play sports?" Matt grinned his little sideways grin, "Like what?"

She frowned inwardly at this, not wanting to converse in anything that could possibly end up on the subject of her mother. She used to be a cheerleader. It started as an activity to keep her seven-year-old self busy after her stepfather died-Brooke's idea.

"_Your mom was a cheerleader, just like you," _Brooke would say, "_Seeing you cheer like this makes her so happy," _

Elle kept up with it, solely as an attempt to make her mother happy. When Peyton died, her desire to keep cheering diminished into nothing. She quit after ninth grade.

Like many people at that age, something about Elle changed. She began to develop a stronger sense of independence, she was smarter, wiser, but her heart was hardened by tragedy. At fourteen, Elle was making a transition- evolving from the caring, motherly girl she had been all of her life. She wanted to change herself, for Elle felt that if she stayed the same, then the pain of her mother's death would never go away.

Maybe it was her personal way of moving on; coming to terms with her mother's death, but it was confusing and tricky. She didn't know where she was going, or who she wanted to be, but she knew that she could never, ever go back to her old self. That self was too much a burden to bear.

Then she met Moe. Moe changed everything.

They met in an elective crafting class; bonding over the fact that they had both been unwillingly placed in the only elective class that fit into their schedules. Moe was four years older than Elle- a senior in high school- when Elle was a lowly freshman.

Moe was the first friend Elle had made since her mom died. She had her little circle of cheer friends in middle school, but after Peyton's suicide in the fall of 8th grade, she distanced herself from them, from everyone really. Her friends were either too scared to talk to her or they didn't know what to say, but they didn't really seem to make an effort to get her back. Maybe, Elle had thought, they were all scared of her, the girl whose mother killed herself.

Elle went into high school with a hardened soul, not really caring anymore about the friends she once had. If she didn't need her mother, then she obviously didn't need friends either.

But Moe was different than any of her old, happy, cheery, preppy friends. Moe was cool, and strong and firey. She dressed in leather, had a tattoo and wore dark eye makeup. She stood up to teachers, smoked in the southside bathroom and never did her homework. She was a complete badass.

But what Elle liked most about Moe was that she talked to her. Most of Elle's classmates never looked directly at Elle when they spoke to her, as though afraid that they might upset her or something, but Moe looked at Elle straight in the eyes, never holding back words or treating her like she was broken.

_Then_

_Loud, screaming rock music blasted from the stereo in Moe's car as they sped down a deserted street. Moe looked at Elle from the driver's seat, grinning, her white teeth gleaming through her blood red lipstick. _

"_What're you doing tonight, Elle?" Moe had asked her, earlier that day in class. _

"_I don't know," Elle shrugged. The truth was, of course, that she didn't have anything planned. Elle hadn't had plans with people in a very long time._

"_Wanna hang out tonight?" Moe raised a thinly tweezed eyebrow, "I'm having some friends over\ at my place,"_

_Elle grinned, trying her best not to show the fact that she was very excited. Moe had taken Elle under her wing over the last few weeks, not caring that she was a freshman. But they had only ever spent time together inside school. Tonight, they were actually hanging out like real friends. _

_Moe, who lived in her own apartment, also had a complicated past. Her mom was a heroine addict and her father had been abusive. Though they were both still alive today, Moe refused to stay in contact with her parents. _

_Maybe that's why Elle got along with her so well, because they understood that -though they never spoke of their pain-it was a lot easier to go about the day with someone that understood that kind of heart-wrenching grief. _

_They pulled into the parking lot at Moe's apartment complex. Elle shivered in the cold September night as she stepped out of the car. _

"_Just thought I'd warn you," Moe said airily, "that there are a lot of older people up there. They're all either in or out of college. Just tell everyone you're seventeen." _

_Elle raised her eyebrows at Moe. "Seriously?" _

"_Look, dude, I know that you're way cool for your age, but they don't." Moe gestured to the building. "Trust me, Elle-bell; you don't want to be 14 years old around these people. You're seventeen." _

"_Whatever you say," Elle shrugged, as Moe pulled something out of her pocket. _

"_Here," She held the object out for Elle to take. "This'll loosen you up," _

_Elle looked at the object, realizing that it was a joint. She had never done anything like this before, not even take a sip of alcohol. Elle looked at Moe. _

"_I don't need drugs to take feelings away, I'm stronger than that." Elle said defiantly, folding her arms. _

"_Yeah, yeah, I know you're strong and whatever." Moe said, but after another second of looking into Elle's face, she immediately understood the younger girl's reaction. "Look, smoking this will not make you manic depressive and suicidal. You don't get addicted to weed, kid. What's the big deal?"_

_But it was a big deal. She didn't want to need anything the way her mom needed the vodka to numb her pain. But innocent curiosity was different than a need. _

_Maybe if she had had some proper parental guidance, Elle wouldn't even be considering doing something like this. But she wanted to change herself; she was looking for some sort of influence to help the evolving begin. Maybe, she realized, that tonight was the night that she was going to change. _

_She reached for the joint_

Now

"Here we are," Matt announced, as they reached the top of the hill, "my favorite place in Tree Hill."

It was a cement basketball court.

"A basketball court?" Elle asked, looking at him. It had the hoops and a bench, and a lonely orange basketball lying off in the grass on the far side of the court.

"This isn't just any basketball court," He said, "This is the Rivercourt. It's legendary, magical. Things happen here, dreams come true here."

Matt sounded a lot like he was talking about Disney World. But Elle gave the court another look. It _was _kind of nice, with the view of the water and the trees, but she supposed that only an athlete could care for a basketball court in this way.

"So you never answered my question," Matt said, as jogged over to the forgotten basketball and picking it up.

"What question?"

"Sports," Matt spun the ball around in his hands, "Do you play any sports?"

"Oh," Elle paused for a moment. "…No. Not a single day in my life."

"It's never too late to start. My best friend's dad taught me how to play when I was twelve," Matt said, bouncing the ball a few times, "He really helped me. But now we all just say it's my natural talent."

He grinned, obviously cracking a joke. But it made Elle think about if Matt had been influenced by _his _parents, despite the fact that he was adopted. She did know that he moved in with Brooke and Julian when he was twelve, Brooke had told her, but she didn't know anything about his background or his past. Maybe he was a lot like her, but he just found happiness a little sooner.

Most teenagers scoff at their parents' guidance, thinking of themselves as independent, capable. It is only appreciated by those who don't have it at all.

And those who don't have their parent's guidance usually end up taking it from anyone else who offers, even if the guidance was being offered for all the wrong reasons; Even if the influence was negative.

There's a certain amount of vulnerability that comes with letting oneself be influenced, something Elle quickly learned as she became more and more acquainted with Moe's older friends. As she slowly fell into place in the newfound group, little bits of her old self began to fade away. That's where the vulnerability comes into play, for the more she lost herself, the more she had to rely on her new friends to show her how they acted and behaved. She began to mold her new self based on the ones who influenced her most at that time.

"Ever shoot a free throw?" Matt lightly tossed her the ball.

"I don't think I've ever even held a basketball," she laughed, looking at the unfamiliar object in her hands, "I have no idea what a free throw is,"

"Well you have a lot to learn, then," he smiled, sideways, of course, "Good thing you're here all summer,"

Matt stepped directly behind her, bringing his strong arms around her shoulders and placing his hands on the basketball, directly over her own.

Elle always allowed herself to be taught by others. Granted, the lessons might not always get through the protective wall around her heart, but she always appreciated the fact that someone cared enough to realize that she was, deep down, a lost girl lacking guidance. Growing up, she always had to be the brave one, the grown-up. Sometimes she just wanted someone else to take the wheel.

Maybe that's why she suddenly felt so comfortable with Matt's hands over hers, as he slowly guided them in an upward motion, teaching her how to shoot a basket.

"Okay," Matt said, taking his hands off of Elle's, "You try,"

She held the basketball in her hands tightly, repeating the upward shooting motion Matt had just demonstrated.

The shot missed.

Elle sighed, as Matt laughed. "Hey, not bad for your first free throw," he said, "C'mon, try again."

As she stood there on the rivercourt with Matt, Elle knew in her heart that Tree Hill was going to change her. She was going to find herself here, in the town where her mother grew up. She was going to get answers to questions that she never dared to ask. After this summer, Elle would never be the same.

Though the end result was unknown, she knew that influence was going to be inevitable.

* * *

**I should be updating more frequently after Christmas, but I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I know that I had quite a few AU characters in this chapter, and I hope I am not boring you with them! Please let me know what you liked, disliked, all that! :) Your kind reviews are so wonderful! **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm so sorry that this took me so long to finish! I had to fly out to Virginia for a funeral, but now that all the craziness has passed, I should be up and running more regularly! **

**Thank you SO MUCH to all who reviewed! It was so rewarding to come home and read them after a stressful and crazy week. **

**Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season! Enjoy! 3  


* * *

**

They say that everything has its own place and function- a place in which they belong. If this were to also apply to people, then the first thing that we would try to associate this saying with would be our careers. The brainiacs become scientists and doctors, the creative ones become artists and designers. But if we tried to further elaborate on this association, things could easily become very controversial. Yes, it could be applied to roles in families and social statuses, but a human sense of belonging, the more emotional side of the matter, is much trickier than careers and roles and statuses.

As her first week in Tree Hill came and went, Elle found herself fitting comfortably into place in Brooke's family. She adored them all; they were like a bouquet of colorful flowers, not all from the same bush, but blended together beautifully when arranged in the same vase.

The environment in Brooke's home was the polar opposite of the home she had grown up in. Her house had been lonely, empty and dark. The blinds were always closed. Peyton's chronic migraines made her very sensitive to the sunlight.

Light flooded the interior of Brooke's home through beautiful, arched windows. They had a welcome mat on the front porch. They ate meals together; they spoke in loud voices and kicked their shoes off at the door. They said 'I love you' and kissed each other good night. She was falling in love with this family.

At first, Elle felt like an intruder, an outsider, and though she still played the role of the houseguest, she was astounded at how quickly they accepted her as one of them, as an almost normal member of the household. She ate with them, laughed with them. She cooked with Brooke, played with Joey and Avery, watched films with Julian, and found a new friend in Matt. It was a strange sense of belonging that she had never really experienced before.

Everything may very well have its own function and place of belonging, but that _sense_ of belonging, or not belonging, is what makes it emotional. As philosopher John O'Donohue puts it- Our bodies know they belong; it is our minds that make our lives so homeless.

_Then_

_She was jolted awake by a sudden burst of loud rock music. Disoriented from sleepiness, Elle quickly sat up and looked wildly around, locating the source of the noise- her cell phone ringing from over on the dresser. _

_She didn't recognize the number that flashed across the screen, but Elle answered anyway, more as a way to quickly stop the loud ringtone than anything else. _

"_Hello?" She whispered, groggily. _

"_Elle-bell," came the familiar raspy voice on the other line._

"_Moe?!" Elle hastily tiptoed to her bedroom door and closed it, not wanting to wake her grandfather, "It's 2 AM! What's going on? Is everything okay?" _

"_Look, ah, I got caught with some Mary J. in my car tonight. Damn cop pulled me over for speeding eleven fuckin' miles over the limit," Moe said, almost nonchalantly, "Anywho, I got arrested. I need you to bail me out." _

"_What?!" Elle hissed, "How the hell am I going to get down there?" _

_Elle's friendship with Moe had become very consistent since her first night at Moe's apartment. Now fifteen, Elle was at Moe's apartment almost every day. Moe, who had graduated high school, did not go to college, but began working at a fast food restaurant full time. _

"_Uh, drive?" Moe said, and Elle could almost feel Moe rolling her eyes over the phone, "C'mon, Elle, you're a smart girl," _

"_I don't even have my license yet! Let alone a CAR!" Elle said, a little louder than she should have. "How do you expect me to-,"_

"_Just take your gramp's car, figure it out!" Moe said, sounding a little more urgent now, "I gotta go. I'm at the station on Parker Street. Bring some cash; I'll pay ya back," _

"_But-," Elle was cut off again. _

"_I'm counting on you, Elle-bell!" Moe said, the volume in her voice decreasing with each word, as though she was being pulled away from the phone. There was some rustling, static, and then the line went dead. _

"_Moe! MOE!" Elle cried into the phone, before tossing it onto her bed out of frustration. _

_She had done some questionable things in the year she had been hanging out with Moe. The first few weeks she had been tentative when experimenting with the unfamiliar substances, but the more things she tried, the more confident she became with the experimentation. The hesitation and guilt she felt when she partied with Moe and her friends quickly evaporated over time. _

_But now, as she sat in her grandfather's pickup truck in the driveway, that hesitation, that guilt was present again, settling itself in her chest and in the pit of her stomach. _

_She had intricately managed to keep her social life separate from her home life. Larry had no knowledge of the drugs or the drinking. And she liked it that way. He never asked where she went on weekends, and was almost always asleep in front of the TV when she came home. _

_Elle ran her hands along the steering wheel. She did not know why she felt this guilty about taking her grandpa's car. She had done bad things before; she had done things that would probably have her mother rolling over in her grave if she found out. But Elle hadn't ever done anything that would harm anyone other than herself. In taking Larry's car, she wouldn't be harming herself…she would be harming him. She didn't want to do anything that would further upset her pained, heartbroken grandfather. _

_Moe probably would never forgive Elle if she failed to retrieve her from the police station. Though it had never been projected towards her, Elle had become very acquainted with Moe's short fuse and fiery temper. Moe never hesitated to snap or mouth off at anyone. She always let others know when she was pissed off at them. _

_But Moe had been there for her. Larry had become almost mentally absent at a time when Elle needed him the most. Why should she feel bad about taking his car when he probably wouldn't even care to notice? Why was she hesitating to run to the aid of the only person who had truly been there for her over the past year? _

_Without a second thought, Elle jammed the key into the ignition. _

_

* * *

_

"_LA cops suck ass. I hate that they impounded my damn car." Moe sighed, as they exited the police station. "Now I gotta get Ray to drive me to work. He probably won't even do it, the bastard." _

_Ray, Moe's sort-of boyfriend-ish sex partner, played the drums in an indie-punk band called 'Vinyl Whiplash'. Moe often dragged Elle along as she accompanied the band to all of their local gigs. The band, and some of their other groupies, made up the regular crowd that chilled with Moe. _

"_And YOU," Moe said throwing an arm around Elle's shoulder, "are such a friggin lifesaver." _

"_No big deal," Elle shrugged, as they climbed back into Larry's truck. _

"_Got a cig?" Moe asked, "I'm dying here," _

_Elle reached into her purse and pulled out a small box, handing the cigarettes to Moe. "Roll the windows down. I don't want the smell to linger in his car." _

"_Gracias," Moe grinned, gleefully rolling the window down. _

"_I have to ask," Elle said, as they drove away from the station, "Why did you call me? Why not Ray or anyone from the band? Why not someone with a car or a license or money?"_

_Moe took a long drag of her cigarette before looking at Elle. _

"_Because, kid, you're the only one I knew would come through. You're all loyal and stuff. I like that in you." Moe took another drag. "It's pretty damn naive, but it's you."_

_Elle did not know whether to feel insulted by this or not. These slightly belittling comments from Moe were typical, but she knew Moe never meant them in a negative way. Moe's group knew Elle's real age, and while they accepted that she was mature at fifteen, they still treated her more like Moe's kid sister than their friend. They cared about her, but treated her like the baby, calling her things like 'Little Elle', 'Baby Bell Elle', 'kid', 'kiddo', 'Elle-bell', or 'Ellie-Elle'. They would tease about Elle's low alcohol tolerance, jokingly cover her ears (and even more demeaning- her eyes) when conversations/situations would turn sexual, and grin and coo whenever turning Elle on to a new substance. _

_Sometimes the jabs would get frustrating, but Elle knew that at that moment, Moe and the group were her only allies, her only companions. Moe was really the only taste she had ever had of a close friend. Moe and her friends' acceptance gave Elle a comfort in belonging, despite the fact that she was basically the wet blanket of the group. She knew that she was a part of something. That sense of belonging made her feel more stable, more normal. As messed up as they all were, they were there, and they were all she had. _

Now

It was almost surreal, how she lived now; how she smiled now, how she ate wholesome food, how everything just seemed brighter, happier and carefree. It was almost as though everything about Los Angeles had been a different lifetime, a sad story that sometimes kept her awake at night, but only when she chose to dwell on the past. And most of the time, Elle chose not to do so.

There was little mention of Peyton, Larry or LA. Maybe they were all expecting Elle to bring those subjects up, but Elle never really knew what to ask, or if she wanted to know anything at all.

Yes, she had come here wanting answers to questions that had plagued her since early childhood, but she knew that once one of these things had been brought up, this world and her old one would collide- thus ending this surreal yet blissful fairytale life. And this life was something that she selfishly wasn't ready to sacrifice just yet.

There would be a time for these questions to be answered. But for now, she was settling, treating herself to the family life that she had never been granted.

When she wasn't working at Clothes over Bros with Brooke, Elle found herself usually in the company of Matt. Just as he had been on their first day together, Matt was cheerful, outgoing and talkative. He was also her age. There were no baby-Elle jokes when she was with him. He treated her as his equal, something Elle hadn't experienced with her old friends. Maybe that's why she took to Matt so well. He wasn't a wild, loose cannon. He didn't belittle her or take advantage of her kindness.

Elle noticed that Matt seemed to really enjoy taking her to places that were _not _in Tree Hill. One day they went to a waterpark in Greensboro, and on another they went to the mile high swinging bridge in the mountains. These little day trips were always enjoyable, but Elle found it slightly odd that he never really wanted to just hang out in town.

What Elle was not aware of, however, was how Brooke carefully orchestrated these very events to happen. She told Matt to take Elle to places outside of town, until she could muster up enough courage to tell Elle about Lucas…or to tell Lucas about Elle. Although she would constantly receive urgent glares from both Julian and Matt, Brooke was having a hard time figuring out a way to drop the bomb. One way or another, someone was going to get hurt, and Brooke would have to deal with the anger directed towards herself for keeping this secret for so long.

She was washing dishes after lunch when Julian and Matt cornered her in the kitchen.

"I can't keep this up, Brooke," Matt said, "I can't keep taking her places outside of town to keep her away from people who might recognize her as Peyton's daughter."

"This isn't right." Julian added, "You're acting like a crazy person, all this sneaking around and avoiding our friends."

"I'm going to say something," Brooke breathed, "I promise, just…not yet."

"Then _when?" _Julian said, throwing his arms up in the air, "Brooke, this is ridiculous, you need to tell them. Elle _and _Lucas."

Brooke glanced out the kitchen window, where Elle had taken Joey and Avery out on the dock. She was laughing and smiling with them, she looked genuinely happy. How was Brooke supposed to tell her these things without ripping that happiness out of this girl's already wounded and hardened heart?

"Lucas and his family are in Jamaica until the end of the month," Matt said, "Jamie told me. You know, my best friend whom I haven't been able to hang out with all week because I'm too busy hiding Elle from his family?"

"Now, both of you listen to me," Brooke said, "Do you have _any _idea how difficult breaking this news is going to be? Because no matter when I bring it up or how nicely I sugarcoat it, they are going to be upset. I _hate _that I have to hurt two people I deeply care about."

Julian's face softened at the distressed look on his wife's. Matt's didn't.

"Well _I'm _hurting her now. I'm lying to her and she has no idea." Matt said, "The longer we all keep lying, the more the truth is going to hurt when it comes out."

Brooke's eyes filled with frustrated tears as Matt wheeled around, exiting the kitchen. Julian put his arms around Brooke, rubbing a circle on her back.

"I know he's right," Brooke took a deep breath, keeping her tears at bay, "I just…I can't…,"

"I know," Julian kissed the top of her head. "You're the most caring person I know. I can see how much this is stressing you out."

Brooke took another deep breath.

"But you have to say something," Julian continued, "I can help you if you want."

"I just have to plan what I'm going to say. And _when _I'm going to say it, you know? Because if she's anything like her mother, then she is not going to take this very well," Brooke shook her head. "I just don't know,"

"Maybe," Julian pondered, "you should try telling someone else first. Like practice breaking this news to Haley and Nathan."

"You're saying that you want me to tell Nathan and Haley before I tell Elle?" Brooke looked up at him.

"Yeah, kinda," Julian shrugged, "If it helps, I mean, maybe telling them will make it easier to tell her. Nathan's sympathetic and Haley's logical, maybe they can help you. They're your best friends. If you can't tell them, there's no way you can tell Elle."

Brooke clung to Julian for a few moments longer before she reached for the phone.

* * *

"So are you going to tell me why you sounded so cryptic on the phone?" Nathan grinned as he led Brooke from the foyer into the living room.

Brooke couldn't help but smile at her friend. Nathan had an almost magical way of calming a situation with the tone of his voice. "Yeah, I am. Where's Haley?"

"In here!" came a voice from the kitchen. Haley appeared behind them, drying her hands with a small dishtowel. "Just finishing the dishes. What's going on, Brooke? Nathan said you had some important news,"

They seated themselves in the living room; Brooke on one couch, facing Nathan and Haley, who were seated side by side on the other. Brooke pressed her knees against the coffee table to keep them from shaking.

"Yes, I do," Brooke said slowly, nervously squeezing her hands together. Dropping the bomb was going to be harder than she thought. How was she going to put this?

_So, guess what, guys? Lucas got Peyton pregnant 18 years ago and I helped Peyton make sure that he never found out! And you'll love this- Peyton's grown up daughter has been staying at my house for the past week and I've made my son help me hide her from all of you because she has no idea that her father lives here in Tree Hill! Am I good at keeping secrets or what?_

"So, uh…," She really should have been more prepared than this. In than moment, she was grateful that she had been blessed with the ability to make small-talk in uncomfortable situations. "Where are the Naley kids today? I don't think I've ever seen your house so quiet."

"Gabe's at day camp, Hannah's at swim practice and Jamie went to Charlotte with some friends." Haley crossed her legs.

"Yeah, speaking of Jamie, he's been looking for Matt!" Nathan said, "We usually see him around here at least four times a week. Where's he been up to?"

"That's kind of why I'm here," Brooke took a deep breath before continuing. It's now or never, she chose to seize this window of opportunity. "I…I have some news. I'm not sure if it's good or bad; it all depends on how you take it."

"What is it, Brooke?" Haley looked at Brooke with her big, motherly eyes that had been a source of comfort for Brooke since high school.

"It's about Peyton." Brooke's voice was steady, but her palms were sweating and her heart raced. "And Lucas…and me, I guess,"

She studied Haley and Nathan's facial expressions as she dove into the story that was so hard for her to even begin to tell the ones who deserved to hear it most. Haley, with her expressive musician's face, widened her eyes and dropped her jaw and gasped at all of the appropriate times. Brooke could tell that Haley was working hard not to interrupt and give her a stern talk. Nathan, on the other hand, was a lot less expressive in his face. As Brooke spoke, his eyes would narrow sometimes, or his eyebrows would crease. He rubbed his chin once or twice, but mostly just watched Brooke intently, not entirely sure what to make of the news.

When Brooke finally finished speaking, a very tense silence hung in the air before Haley spoke.

"I…I don't even know what to say," Haley said slowly, "I'm too shocked to even be mad at you for keeping this a secret from all of us-_especially_ Lucas-for eighteen years,"

"I know," The calm steadiness that had remained in Brooke's voice throughout her speech was quickly disintegrating. "and I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am,"

"I can't believe that Lucas and Peyton have had a child just…existing all this time," Nathan said, "what the hell,"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Haley said, her voice was very stern now, "How could you keep this from Lucas all these years?"

"I made Peyton a promise. I made her a promise and then everything just got so messy." tears pooled in Brooke's eyes as she paused. _Why _was she getting so emotional? _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry…_ "I'm so sorry. I promised," She finished lamely, knowing that the conversation was far from ending.

"It's okay, I'm sorry," Haley said, gently, obviously regretting her previous tone of voice. "We're not mad at you,"

Nathan, like Julian, softened his shocked face immediately as Brooke became emotional. "It's a bad situation. It's just a bad situation all around."

To her complete horror, the tears that had sat stationery on Brooke's eyelids suddenly pooled over like a waterfall, faster than she could control them. Before she knew it, she was sobbing into her hands.

Haley immediately stepped over the coffee table and sat next to Brooke, putting an arm around her friend.

"Brooke," she said gingerly, as Brooke took a long, quivering breath.

"I'm sorry," Brooke said tearfully, "I can't believe I'm crying,"

"It's okay," Haley said softly, her arm still around Brooke, "just try to calm down,"

"I don't know what to do, Hales," Brooke said, "I feel so terrible for keeping this from them, I hate that I have to hurt them when the truth comes out. I just haven't found the right time, and they've both been through so much,"

"Shh," Haley said, as Nathan watched the pair of them from the other couch, sadness and pity etched on his face.

"I promised my best friend. I couldn't break that promise." Brooke cried, "And I hate her for that. I hate that she continues to have that power over me even after she's been dead for almost six years. It should have been easier. I shouldn't have had to betray people I loved to keep a promise. They shouldn't have to get hurt again."

"I know it's hard." Haley said, "But you know what you have to do."

Brooke sat up a little straighter and nodded, wiping her eyes. She had stopped crying. "I know. I just needed a little tutor-girl strength to help me prepare."

Haley smiled and hugged Brooke a little tighter before dropping her arms. "What's her name?"

"Anna-Elizabeth Sawyer," Brooke said, smiling down at her hands, "Elle. Spitting image of Peyton. I see Peyton in her every day. The old Peyton."

"She gave Elle her last name," Nathan snorted, "Nice one, Sawyer,"

"It breaks my heart that Peyton could commit suicide when she had a _child _to take care of." Haley shook her head. "How can a parent do that to their child?"

"She was way more messed up than we knew," Nathan sighed. "What a waste. Peyton had so much going for her."

"That thought kills me every day." Brooke added.

Another heavy silence hung in the room, but this one was not tense and shocked, this silence was sorrowful and reminiscent.

"Can we meet her?" Haley asked, hesitantly, "I mean, unless you-,"

"Actually," Brooke interrupted Haley. "I think that would be good for her. To meet some of her mom's old friends. She puts on a brave front, but she's pretty messed up from all that's happened to her. She never knew Peyton like we did. She didn't know the warm, loving side that made us care for her so much, and I think hearing about it from someone else other than me would really help her opinion of her mom."

"Poor kid," Nathan said, "Awful."

"We're barbequing tonight," Brooke said, "Why don't you two stop by around seven thirty?"

"We'll be there," Haley said, "I just have to pick the kids up from swim and day camp."

"Just…don't mention Lucas or anything about her father," Brooke said. "I need to tell her in private. I don't want her to feel ambushed."

"We won't say anything," Nathan said, "But if she asks us about Peyton's old boyfriends, or if we know who her father is, I'm not going to lie to her. I'll let you answer those questions."

Haley nodded in agreement.

"That's more than fair," Brooke said, as they all stood up, making their way back into the foyer.

"So seven thirty?" Haley asked, as Brooke nodded.

"See you then!" Brooke paused before reaching for the doorknob, "And thank you, both of you. You guys are always such a huge help through everything. I'm so blessed to have friends like you."

* * *

"Look at that sunset." Matt gazed at the horizon, "have you ever seen a sky that color?"

There was a spot on the beach behind Brooke's house, just to the left of the dock, where the sea grass had grown tall out of the sand. There were two beach chairs placed just in front of the grass, which provided much shade during the hot summer days. Matt showed Elle this special place on their first day together. He told her that if she ever needed a place to sit and think, this was it. They came here often, a perfect way to unwind any day.

"I prefer sunrises." Elle mused, "It's something beginning, instead of something ending."

"Brooke used to say that too," Matt said, "It's weird how Brooke was in your life before she was in ours. How we've been connected through her all this time."

"Yeah, I guess," Elle said softly.

"Brooke and Julian have helped me so much." He continued, as Elle dug her toes deeper into the sand. "They gave me a second chance at a family."

Elle snorted inwardly. It was almost ironic that he was saying this to her, for she had been feeling very similar for the past couple of days.

When getting to know a person, there's always that one moment or conversation that changes things; that moment when the person stops being an acquaintance and starts becoming something much more personal. They had talked endlessly about meaningless things over the last week, telling anecdotes and making light conversation. But this conversation, Elle realized, was different than any they had ever had before. Maybe this conversation, she wondered, is when he tries to get personal.

She wasn't sure if she was ready to get personal. Especially considering how muddy her personal life was.

"My parents died in a car accident when I was five," Matt said, his eyes still fixed on the horizon, "I was in and out of foster homes until I was twelve, when Brooke and Julian let me into their's."

He was definitely getting personal.

"That's terrible," Elle said, uncomfortably. Though she knew this kind of pain, she was still never sure what to say to console anyone else.

"Tell me about Peyton," Matt said, as though he had been dying to say this since the moment they met.

Nobody had ever said that to her, straight up, without hesitation. Nobody ever _dared _to ask her to talk about her mother. Elle's neck snapped in his direction. He was looking at her with an expression that she could not read. "Excuse me?"

"Brooke used to talk about her." Matt said, "She meant a lot to Brooke."

Elle continued to stare at him, half shocked, half angry. Just because _he _could openly talk about his dead parents doesn't mean she would do the same. Who was he to talk about her mother?

Matt, who saw the look of indignation on Elle's face, quickly tried to continue, realizing that he touched a nerve. "I'm sorry; I…Brooke always spoke so highly of Peyton. I bet she was a wonderful person."

"Look, I don't know what Brooke told you, but I don't-,"

Elle's words were cut off by loud, fast thumping footsteps on the dock. It was only seconds before Joey appeared over the railing, looking down at the pair in the sand.

"There you guys are!" He said breathlessly, "I've been lookin' for ya everywhere!"

"What is it, Joey?" Matt asked.

"Mom said it's time for dinner! Uncle Nate and Aunt Haley are coming over!" Joey chirped, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two adolescents.

"Okay, we'll be up in a minute." Matt said, as Joey took off up the dock again. Elle stood up, brushing the sand off the back of her claves.

"I'm sorry," Matt offered, standing as well. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Just forget it, okay?" Elle said, her voice heavier that it had been all week. "My mom's dead. There's nothing to say."

"It's okay to let people in, Elle. It's okay to let me in." It was nearly dark now, the sun began to tuck its topmost rays under the horizon. She stared at him for a moment, not sure what to say. Damn he was persistent.

"Look, I just know that you're a lot like who I used to be." Matt continued, "I know that it's hard to open up to a world that has done nothing but hurt you. I understand you."

"Just leave it alone," Elle pushed past him. Her footsteps were heavy with emotion on the wooden dock.

Sure, she had been accepted into this family. But now, as she made her way back to the house, she was feeling very much the outsider again. She was not used to anyone trying to get her to talk about her feelings. If this is how they were, with their personal talks and open hearts, then maybe Elle would forever be an alien in their world.

So maybe everything doesn't have its own place and function after all. According to Mr. O'Donohue, belonging has to be chosen, received, and renewed. It is a lifetime's work.

* * *

**Thanks again to every single one of my wonderful reviewers! :) see the little green button? give it a click for me! :) Take care, everyone! **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, I suck. I don't even deserve to give an excuse for not posting in so long. **

**BUT if it's any consolation, this is my longest chapter yet! I hope I haven't lost too many readers in the long time I was not updating, because I appreciate each and every one of you! ESPECIALLY my wonderful reviewers! :) **

**

* * *

  
**

It's been said that only by great risks can great results achieved.

Haley James Scott could probably consider herself a risk taker. She married at sixteen, moved out of her parents' house to live on her own and support herself. She went on a rock tour shortly after; even though she knew that that risk would shatter her marriage. She found out that she was pregnant during her senior year of high school. She could have not taken the risk of marrying her high school aged boyfriend, she didn't have to take the risk of moving out of her parents' house, and if she didn't choose to have her baby at seventeen, things would have been different.

But Haley James Scott wouldn't have ever done any of it differently. Not now that she has the world's greatest husband, and three beautiful, intelligent children. Of course her life had been turbulent, even downright miserable at times, but things were good now. Things were perfect. Her success, her happiness, had been a result of the risks she chose to take.

Many people often associate taking risks with being reckless. Yes, the two could very well go hand in hand, but they can just as easily stand on their own. Being reckless does involve taking risks, but they are thoughtless, careless risks. Taking risks isn't always reckless. More times than not, taking a risk involves a lot of thought and consideration, to make a decision that may not always seem like the safest thing to do. It involves listening to that tiny gut feeling that is saying that this risk will ultimately have the most rewarding outcome.

Haley James Scott was a risk taker, but she was not reckless. A wife and mother of three could not afford to be reckless.

"Almost ready?" Haley asked her husband, who pulled a blue polo shirt over his head.

Haley, naturally punctual, was already dressed and ready to leave for Brooke's. She seated herself on the end of their bed, waiting for his reply.

"Just let me grab my shoes," Nathan replied, before disappearing into the closet.

"Hey, mom?" A swimsuit clad Hannah appeared in the doorway. "Have you seen my red swim cap?"

While Jamie and Gabriel had both been born fair-haired, Hannah was the only one of their offspring who had inherited her father's dark hair and bone structure. At fourteen, Hannah proved every day that she did not only have her father's features, but her love for sports as well.

"You're swimming again? Weren't you at swim practice for like six hours today?" Haley looked at her only daughter, her lean swimmer's body excentuated by the red one-piece speedo clinging to her skin.

"She's a Scott! A dedicated athlete!" Nathan called from the closet.

"Well I_ would_ be going to the movies with Kate and Marissa tonight, but _somebody_ is making me sit home and babysit Gabriel tonight. Might as well go out back and perfect my flip-turn." Hannah leaned against the door frame. "Where are you going anyway?"

"Dinner with Brooke and Julian." Nathan said, emerging with both shoes on. "Grown up stuff, you'd be bored."

"Actually, I'm bored being stuck at home watching Gabe all night. Where's Jamie? Why does HE get to stay out with his friends?" Hannah folded her arms, her shoulder muscles flexing.

"Watch it" Haley raised en eyebrow. "Jamie's in Charlotte, he wouldn't have been home in time. And Jamie has also stayed home many nights in his day watching YOU. It's one night, Hannah. You can suck it up."

"You can go out tomorrow, Han." Nathan said, his voice calm and reassuring.

"You could at least pay me," Hannah grumbled.

"Okay," Haley placed a hand on her hip, looking at the teenager almost amusingly, "I'll pay you for watching your brother if you start paying rent."

Hannah gave an infuriated cry before stomping downstairs in frustration.

"Well played, mom." Nathan grinned, as Haley nodded in satisfaction.

Haley loved being a mother. She loved raising her children, as moody and quippy as they could be, and she loved the fact that raising three kids kept her distracted from dwelling too long on problematic factors.

But without the distraction of her kids, even for a moment, her mind sometimes wandered to a place where she kept her problems and her fears out of her children's lives.

Nathan was quick to notice this, simply by the look in her eyes. The many years of hardship for Nathan Scott had turned him from a cocky, insensitive punk into an inquisitive, kind-hearted, level headed father. He could read people- the looks on their faces, the glints in their eyes. He did not know where this ability came from; certainly not from either of his parents, but as he saw Haley lean her head against the passenger's window as they drove to Brooke's, he knew something was troubling her.

"What is it?" he asked, placing a hand on her leg, while keeping the other on the steering wheel.

"This isn't right." Haley said, "This whole thing just...doesn't feel right."

"What whole thing, meeting Peyton and Lucas's child at dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, and just the whole idea of her in general." She took a deep breath. "Peyton had a baby. A _baby._ And she didn't tell us. Brooke didn't tell us. I was too shocked earlier to even be angry at her, but now...now I am really, really pissed about this. I mean what the hell was she thinking, not telling us-or LUCAS-about this for eighteen years?"

Haley was a passionate person, in every sense of the word. She loved, sung, lived, and believed with the utmost passion. She was a natural expresser, a musician, she didn't suppress her feelings often, for they were usually too strong to keep all bottled up. Her heart was bigger than even Haley herself could fathom. She cried when she was sad, shouted when she was angry, smiled when she was happy, and if she believed in something, if she had an opinion, she expressed it.

"It's effed up, Hales, but I can kind of understand where she's coming from-,"

"Yeah, yeah, she promised Peyton, and that's great and everything, Nathan, but I thought Brooke was a little more considerate, especially about raising children." Haley's voice was growing louder, "And you know what the worst part is? Now that she told us, we have to keep it a secret too. If Luke finds out that we knew and didn't tell him...,"

"Then tell him." Nathan said.

Haley gave a bitter, sarcastic laugh. "Why don't I just call him right now? Oh, hi, Luke, You'll never believe what Brooke told us today! But don't tell her I told you, because you're supposed to be shocked when -IF EVER- you hear it from her!"

"Funny, Haley." Nathan smirked.

"But really, Nathan," Haley looked at her husband, "we cannot tell Lucas! It wouldn't be right for him to hear it from us. I just hate that we've been dragged into this sticky mess."

"I know, but don't you kind of see where Brooke's coming from now?" Nathan half shrugged. "Brooke's loyal to her friends. She's a lot like you in that way."

Haley raised an eyebrow.

"No, seriously," Nathan continued, "Remember in high school, when you promised Lucas that you wouldn't tell anyone he had HCM?"

"That was different...,"

"Not really, Hales. Luke could have collapsed on the court during all of those games he played, and you knew that. But you never said anything, because-,"

"Because I made him a promise." Haley sighed, "Point taken,"

Haley glanced back out the window, as they passed the street Haley used to walk as a child when she would go over to Lucas's house to play.

"It still isn't right." She said after a moment, "It isn't right that Brooke hid this. It isn't right that Lucas doesn't know. It isn't right that Peyton killed herself. I mean, how the HELL could a parent do that to their child?"

"She wasn't mentally well." Nathan shook his head; they had discussed their disbelief about Peyton's suicide many times before, and it never got easier.

"I know." Haley sighed. "I just look at Jamie and Hannah and Gabriel, and I could never, ever imagine doing something like that to them, not matter how sad I get or how bad I feel. And to me, Peyton would have been the last one to let her child grow up without a mother. After all that pain in her heart that she carried around after her mom -BOTH of them-died."

"Peyton was pretty screwed up. Like Rock bottom screwed up." Nathan reasoned, "I remember when my mom was in a place like that. After you hit rock bottom, there are only two ways to go. Back up, or...,"

"Peyton and I used to be so close." Haley said quietly, "It still kills me that she was able to just up and leave town without even caring to say goodbye or see us ever again."

"I know." Nathan nodded sadly, "And saying 'well, she was sick' never makes it feel better either."

Haley looked at her husband; his eyes fixed on the road, his brow furrowed. While she was expressive with her feelings, Nathan was not. But Haley knew this face- he wore it when he pondered or inwardly sorted out his problems. The muscles around his eyes contracted this way whenever he thought about his father, his mother, and now, Peyton. It was the face of reminiscent sadness. Maybe even reminiscent regret.

More as an attempt to break the silence than anything else, she spoke again. "I wonder which one of them she looks like. Peyton or Lucas."

Nathan smiled. "I keep picturing a high school aged Peyton, with all that curly hair and that rebellious glint in her eyes."

"Maybe she's studious, with his piercing blue eyes and brooding demeanor." Haley squinted her eyes and tilted her head to the side.

"A cross between Lucas and Peyton would result in nothing BUT brooding." Nathan laughed. "It's a given factor."

"Of course the two most tortured friends we had growing up had a tortured kid," Haley snorted, her laughs mixing in with Nathan's. They laughed at the absolute insanity of the whole situation, about how crazy Brooke's story actually sounded.

It felt good to laugh. But it wasn't funny. And the moment Nathan and Haley realized this, the laughter stopped.

* * *

Joey flung the door open almost before Nathan could even ring the doorbell.

"Aunt Haley! Uncle Nate!" he cried joyfully, his dimples so like Brooke's that they could have been hers.

"Hi, sweetie," Haley smiled warmly at the energetic nine year old.

"Hey bud!" Nathan said, patting Joey on the back. "Still working that jump shot?"

"Yeah!" Joey exclaimed, "I'm gonna be as good as Matt in no time!"

"I believe it." Nathan smiled, as they followed Joey into the kitchen.

Brooke looked up from the counter as the three bodies entered the kitchen.

"Hey guys," She said, a big smile on her face, "glad you made it!"

"Of course," Haley said, putting her purse on the counter. "Glad to be here,"

Nathan studied Brooke's smiling face. He'd known Brooke long enough to recognize that she wasn't wearing a happy smile. It was a nervous smile, a scared shitless smile. It was obvious that Brooke was anticipating the moment they would meet Lucas's child.

"Hey Joey," she said to her son, "Why don't you go out back and help daddy on the grill?"

Joey's eyes lit up at this suggestion. "Cool! Maybe he'll let me flip a burger!"

As Joey scurried out to the porch, Brooke took a deep breath, turning back to face her guests. "Thank you for coming. This is a big step for me."

"It's a big step for all of us," Haley said, "But it's going to be okay."

"No nerves tonight." Nathan said, patting Haley on the small of her back. Brooke smiled at him.

"These should be done in about fifteen minutes." Brooke dumped a bag of frozen French fries onto a baking sheet before sticking them in the oven. "Can I get you two some drinks? Wine? Beer?"

"Beer, please." Nathan replied.

"I'll take a glass of wine, thanks, Brooke," Haley said, "So…where is she?"

"Elle is out back with Julian and Avery," Brooke retrieved a bottle of pinot noir from the refrigerator, "And Matt ran to the store to grab a bottle of barbecue sauce."

With their drinks in hand, Nathan and Haley followed Brooke out to the back porch, where Julian, Joey and Avery were crowded around the big stainless steel grill, both children chattering excitedly.

Nathan's eyes landed on her almost immediately, her slim body seated in a chair at the table, watching as Julian showed his kids how to flip a hamburger patty. Haley's hand tightened around his as they continued to follow Brooke to where the girl sat.

She was Peyton. Or at least, she could have been. The hair, the legs, the cheekbones…all Peyton.

"Elle, these are our friends, Nathan and Haley Scott," Brooke said, nervously intertwining her fingers as she brought her hands together, "They live across town,"

She stood up, now at eye level with Nathan and Haley. Extending her hand, she took no notice at how nervous both Haley and Brooke looked. "Elle Sawyer,"

It was a little strange hearing this girl speak, for they had been expecting Peyton's voice to come out of the girl's mouth. Elle's voice wasn't smooth and heavy like Peyton's had been, but scratchier, throatier; almost as raspy as Brooke's.

"It's great to meet you," Haley smiled her warm, motherly smile as she shook Elle's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Nathan said quietly, meeting her eyes. It was then that he noticed that they weren't Peyton's eyes. Her eyes were blue, blue and troubled and brooding.

Lucas.

"I'm going to run and check on the fries," Brooke said, "be right back,"

As Brooke took off up the porch, Haley and Nathan seated themselves at the table, across from Elle.

They seemed nice enough, sure, Elle thought, but they kept glancing at her, then looking away, as though she had something stuck in her teeth, and they were too embarrassed to say anything about it. Had Brooke told them about her rough past, about her mother? The woman- Haley- was gazing at her almost pityingly. Elle shifted awkwardly in her seat.

This couple looked strangely familiar, but Elle could not pinpoint where she had seen their faces before. Maybe she had seen them around town without realizing it. She had, after all, come in contact with many couples during her time spent in Brooke's store.

"So…how do you know Brooke and Julian?" She asked them, for conversation's sake, after the few moments of uncomfortable silence.

"Oh, man, we go way back," Nathan took a sip of his beer.

"We were friends with Brooke in high school," Haley added, and something in Elle's mind clicked. She recognized them from the picture of her mother, Brooke and their friends at their high school prom. Well, that explained the looks of pity they shot her earlier.

"So you knew my mom?" Elle asked quietly, not meaning to sound quiet.

"Your mom was a very good friend of ours," Haley said, empathy shining in her large, friendly eyes.

"Oh," was all Elle could say, but she was burning with questions she couldn't voice aloud. What was wrong with her? Here were two more people who knew Peyton. Why couldn't she form the words to ask the questions she had been dying to know since before she got here? She had been aching to learn more about her mother for years now; _why _was she unable to ask about it now that her questions can finally been answered?

Under this layer of confusion was the never-ending anger and resentment Elle felt towards Peyton. If Nathan and Haley Scott had been good friends of her mother, then _why _had they never been mentioned before? Why hadn't Peyton ever talked about her old friends or Tree Hill? What was so terrible about this place that caused her mother to never speak of it again?

Elle's thoughts were interrupted by Brooke emerging from the house, a tray of fries in her hands. "We have fries! And Matt!"

Sure enough, Matt appeared behind Brooke, holding a bottle of barbecue sauce. He caught Elle's eye, looking apologetic. Elle bit her lip uncertainly, quickly looking down at her lap. They hadn't talked since she had raced off up the dock earlier that evening. She was sorry for snapping at him, embarrassed about how she ran away like an emotional thirteen year old girl. But he had pushed her, made her uncomfortable. She didn't want that to happen again.

But she would talk to him later. Now she was about to dine with people from her mother's past, and she wasn't going to let the awkwardness of sitting near him get in the way of getting to know Nathan and Haley Scott. Her problems with Matt could wait. She pushed the incident on the beach out of her mind.

After cheerfully greeting the couple at the table, Matt seated himself next to Nathan, followed by Joey and Avery, and finally, Julian and Brooke, each carrying large plates of food.

"Dig in, everyone!" Julian announced, placing half of a hamburger on Avery's plate.

The conversation during dinner was light and cheerful, and Elle found herself slowly loosening up around two of her mother's old friends, her discomfort evaporating with every second. Nathan was funny, but not overbearingly so; he had a fun, relaxed demeanor that made him very enjoyable to be around. Haley came off as very intelligent, but extremely kind, open and loving. Her laugh was filled with a kind of warmth that Elle had never experienced before.

Their plates had long been empty, and Joey and Avery had long since abandoned the dinner table to go play, but Elle was transfixed by anecdote after anecdote, the mood around them so cheerful and light that they could have floated away.

They were _fascinating. _Nathan played in the NBA. Haley had gone on a rock tour-more than once.

"You seriously got married when you were _sixteen?" _Elle asked, incredulously, "How long did you date before that?"

"Not long at all," Nathan snorted, "Looking back on it, it's crazy. I would never let any of our kids marry someone at sixteen."

"We were only an official couple for what…four or five months before we got married?" Haley laughed, "You had barely gotten out of a relationship with Peyton when you started dating me."

Elle's back went rigid in her chair. _What_?

The mood changed instantly at the mention of Peyton's name; it was as though everyone had tensed up at once.

"You dated my mom?" Elle asked, breaking the sudden silence.

"Yeah," Nathan said awkwardly, as Haley shot a wide-eyed Brooke an apologetic look, "for almost two years, actually."

"I…," Elle swallowed, "didn't know that. Huh. Well, that's cool."

She shrugged nonchalantly, flashing a smile at Haley, letting her know that it was okay that she brought Peyton up. She saw Brooke out of the corner of her eye, who had just let out a deep breath of relief at Elle's words.

But it wasn't okay, not really. Her insides were forming knots around themselves as discomfort swelled in her chest. So her mom had had high school boyfriends. _Well, duh. What girl didn't get involved with at least one boy in high school?_ So why did Elle have this sick, uncomfortable feeling in her stomach?

"Remember the boytoy auction?" Haley said to Brooke and Nathan, trying to lighten the mood again.

"Yeah," Nathan jumped into the conversation, "I remember Peyton bought me because you spent all your money on…someone else."

"I remember I got there late and spent two-hundred bucks on Mouth," Brooke added quickly.

"I was so nervous about you spending a whole night with your ex-girlfriend," Haley laughed, "I used to be so intimidated her sometimes."

"Yeah, we all did," Brooke snorted, "Peyton had that quality about her."

Elle shifted in her seat, her eyes fixed on Joey's empty plate. _Why _were they still talking about Peyton?

"I just remember the hair." Nathan grinned, "The wild, curly hair and the red bedroom."

"Oh, the red bedroom…," Haley smiled fondly at the memory.

"A whole lot went down in that bedroom." Brooke mused, "Heartbreak, boys, betrayal, realization, love, psychos…,"

She trailed off into silence. Elle jumped at this opportunity, hastily standing up, collecting empty plates in her hands.

"Let me take these inside," she said quickly, wanting to get as far away from the table as possible.

"Elle, you don't have to do that," Brooke began, looking concerned.

"No, it's okay," Elle said, reaching for the empty plate in front of Nathan, "I don't mind!"

Her ears buzzed as she entered the house, setting the plates onto the counter next to the sink. Her mom had a red bedroom. Elle did not know _why _learning this bothered her so much. It shouldn't have been so difficult to picture her mother ever having a normal life, but it was. Her crazy, moody, manic depressive mother had had friends, boyfriends, normal teenage experiences. She had a red bedroom growing up in Tree Hill.

If it was this hard to hear her mother's old friends speak of her this way, then maybe Elle wasn't anywhere near emotionally ready for this knowledge. Maybe she wasn't ready for her questions to be answered, as much as she wanted them to be.

"You okay?"

Elle looked up to see Matt, tentatively looking over at her from near the door. She didn't notice him follow her inside.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she breathed, leaning against the counter.

"Wanna get out of here?" he asked, stepping closer to her, "go get some dessert or something?"

Matt had just one hundred percent redeemed himself with this suggestion. Sure, she was slightly skeptical about opening up to him…but her friend had just offered to get her out of a situation that she was not at all comfortable in.

"Yeah," Elle looked at him, thankful. "That would be really great, actually."

"Okay," He smiled back. They were okay. Despite the little incident on the beach, they were still okay. The tightness in Elle's chest reduced slightly.

"Lemme go tell Brooke." he turned to go back outside, but stopped. "Elle, about earlier…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you-,"

"It's fine." Elle said, "Really. Let's just forget about it, okay?"

"Okay," Matt smiled, before disappearing outside.

Sometimes the easiest way to resolve something is to not resolve it at all.

* * *

"Let me drive," Elle demanded, holding her hand out for his keys.

"What? Why?" Matt asked, looking at her strangely.

They stood at the end of Brooke's driveway, where Matt's topless jeep was parked next to Nathan and Haley's black Range Rover.

"Just let me drive!" Elle said again, "You've carted me all around friggin North Carolina this week; let me take you somewhere for a change! Please?"

It was a coping mechanism she had developed. When something troubled her, she learned that it was easier to just do something else to take her mind off things, rather than wallow and dwell on the matter. Maybe it was somewhat cowardly, the way she constantly ran and masked her troubles, but it worked. It worked and it made them go away.

"Okay…," Matt said uncertainly, handing his keys over.

All of the bad feelings that had accumulated in her chest during dinner had disappeared the moment she revved up the engine. It was almost soul cleansing, feeling the summer night rush over her skin as they sped down the dark street.

"Where are we going?" Matt asked, as they turned onto a side street off of the main road.

"C'mon, Matt, stop worrying. I thought kids with no parents were supposed to be hard-asses."

Matt laughed loudly at this, before fumbling with the search button on the radio. He landed on a classic rock station that made Elle immediately tense up. The music hadn't even been playing for five seconds before she reached over and turned it off.

"Whoa, what the heck?" He exclaimed, "I was listening to that!"

"I hate The Cure." Elle said dryly.

Sometimes this way of dealing with her problems caused Elle to make reckless decisions. She numbed her pain by acting on impulse, by taking thrilling risks. It was invigorating; the adrenaline rush that accompanied these risks was stronger than the negative feelings she had been trying to erase. She hadn't planned on asking to drive the jeep to get dessert, and she certainly hadn't planned on ending up at the location at which they sat in front of now.

"_This_ is where you're taking me?" Matt looked at her. "What are we doing here?"

Elle looked from Matt to the old, run down bar and tap they had parked in front of. "Getting dessert, what do you think?"

"So not only do you take me to a bar, but you take me to the dirtiest, oldest bar in all of Tree Hill?"

Elle unbuckled her seat belt, making to get out of the car. "It's probably not that bad. C'mon, let's go,"

"And just how do you plan on getting served?" Matt asked, "Are we gonna shoot the place up?"

"No," Elle pulled out her wallet, holding up a small rectangular card. "I'm 25 years old in Delaware."

"Of course." Matt snorted. "Are kids with no parents supposed to have fake ID's too?"

"Absolutely." Elle smirked, "You coming?"

Matt didn't move, and Elle frowned slightly. What was his problem? She had a fake ID and access to alcohol. It was the perfect scenario for a fun night.

"I hate to ruin your plans… but I don't drink, Elle." Matt smiled at the surprised look on her face.

"Really?" she asked, sounding both disappointed and impressed, "Never?"

"Never have, never will." Matt shrugged.

"That's…actually kind of fascinating." Elle said wonderingly, "It's like seeing an Amish person in public."

"You're comparing me to the Amish?" Matt looked amused.

"No, it's just…," Elle studied him inquisitively, thinking back to the knowledge she had gained about him earlier that evening, "You had a rough childhood. You were probably 50 times more likely to get into abusing substances than kids who grew up normal. So why not? How is it that you weren't even tempted to try?"

"It's not like I haven't ever been tempted," Matt said, "Because I have, believe me. My parents were killed by a drunk driver. I swore to never drink because of it."

So they were back on the subject that had sent her heading for the hills earlier that afternoon. But somehow, Elle wasn't as uncomfortable as she had been earlier. She was almost okay with talking to him about this.

"You're such a good person," Elle said, almost thinking out loud. "I didn't think people like you existed."

"You're a good person too, Elle." Matt looked at her. "You and I just deal with things a little differently."

"My step-dad died in a car accident when I was six." Elle said, not really knowing why she was telling this to Matt. Maybe it was because she was trying to relate, because they didn't share a common enjoyment for drinking. Or maybe she was really, truly comfortable to opening up around him. "But I barely remember him now. He's like something from a different lifetime."

"It's tough." Matt said. "It's hard for me to remember them, too."

"And I never met my birth father." Elle breathed, "I have no idea who he is, where he lives or if he's still even alive."

"Your mom never told you?" Matt didn't meet her eyes.

"No. I used to ask when I was younger, when I was starting to understand my situation. But my mom would just say that he didn't want to be a part of her family." Elle frowned. "But she knew, I know she knew. I don't think she ever told anyone, either. Brooke never knew who he was, and I don't even think that my grandpa did either."

Matt took a deep breath, adjusting his seat belt.

"I hate The Cure." She said, quietly, not looking at him.

Matt said nothing, merely waiting for her to continue speaking.

"My mom loved The Cure." Elle paused, her eyes still fixed out the window, "My mom killed herself. That's how she died. I was 13."

"Elle…," Matt said sadly, "I'm-,"

"Don't," She stopped him. "It's okay. Really. I came here to find out about her, about who she was before she got sick. She was so damn secretive. But I can't even listen to a song that reminds me of her, I can't even handle Brooke and Haley and Nathan talking about her at dinner. I barely know anything about her, but I get so uneasy when people talk about her."

Matt watched her, and she could feel his eyes burrowing into her soul. It was a feeling she often got from Brooke, though it did not bother her right here, with Matt. She was open to him, wide friggin open. And she felt okay. Maybe it was because he could truly relate, or maybe it was just because Matt was her first real, true genuine friend.

"And I don't understand that. I don't know." she continued, "I don't know who this beautiful, wonderful person my mother used to be, I don't have memories of my birth father, I hardly remember my stepdad. I have this huge opportunity to finally learn something about one of my parents, and I keep running scared."

"It's a mess." Matt said. "But it's understandable. Your head is in such a confusing place, I don't think you are running scared."

"Isn't it fucked up?" Elle turned to him. "Isn't it so, so ridiculously fucked up?"

Before she knew what she was doing, a deep, powerful feeling erupted in her chest. She threw her head back, and burst out laughing. Matt looked slightly alarmed at this, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"It's so messed up!" She laughed, "It's so ridiculous that it's funny!"

She doubled over, her shoulders shaking with mirth. Matt's face went from bewilderment to slight amusement. "Dude, you're seriously laughing right now? I thought kids with no parents weren't supposed to have a sense of humor."

"I'm sorry!" She cried, smiling so hard that her cheek muscles began to burn, "It's all so funny! If anyone else was in this situation, it wouldn't be funny, but it's just so hilarious that it's all happening to me!"

"Yeah…," Matt said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "You're life sucks…,"

"MY LIFE SUCKS!" Elle roared with laughter. "You are so friggin right! My mom committed suicide! My father is some douche-bag asshole who never wanted me! My grandpa died _three weeks ago _and NOW I'm sitting in front of a BAR three thousand miles from home with a guy who doesn't even drink! It's so- oh, my god, it's so funny!"

She did not know why she was laughing. Nothing about her situation was funny at all, but she could not control the fit of giggles exiting her mouth. It wasn't a sad emotion, but she was actually, finally dealing with this, even if it was in the wrong way.

"You straight?" Matt asked, as her laughter died down, the old mood returning to the car.

"Yeah," Elle said, taking another huge, calming breath. "Sorry, that was really weird."

"It's okay," Matt smiled, "People deal with things all kinds of ways. No worries."

"It's like a huge game of tug-of-war in my head," Elle sighed, "Half of me hates my mom. Like a deep, burning disrespect that I don't have for anyone else. But the other half…just aches for her. Aches for the attention I never had, the little things about her that I'm dying to know."

"'I saw a picture of her, your mom." Matt said, "You look like her."

Elle's body tensed. She hated, _loathed_, people comparing her to her mother. She wanted to be _nothing _like Peyton. Not the woman who wreaked so much havoc on so many people's lives, including her own daughter's.

"I am nothing like my mother." Elle said harshly. "My mom was weak, sad and scared. She took her own life when she had so many people that still cared about her. She was selfish. I'm not that person."

"You're beautiful," Matt said softly, "You're strong and brave and beautiful."

Elle stared at him. Boys had called her beautiful before- but usually only because they wanted to get in her bed. Matt didn't sound like the other boys did. He sounded true, sincere, and honest.

"I see a strength in you that I don't even think you realize you have," Matt continued, "You are uneasy with yourself because you're so confused. But you are an amazingly strong person. You didn't deserve what happened to you and your family."

She wanted to kiss him. Elle had always kissed for the mere physical pleasure of doing so. She never let her feelings be a problematic factor in her relationships. But something was different this time. This time she was overcome with a burning desire to kiss him, not for the physical pleasure, but for the passion in her heart, something she had never, ever felt before. Maybe coming to Tree Hill was slowly but surely making guard come down, something that wasn't supposed to happen, _ever. _Nevertheless, Elle Sawyer was suddenly hit with a wave of affection for this boy looking back at her.

Yes, her actions were often reckless, but Elle Sawyer was not a risk taker, at least, not intentionally. Her life had caused her to be tentative, painfully aware of everything. Her gut feeling wasn't reliable, for it was often conflicted with all of the emotions swirling around in her chest.

Her pain was masked by recklessness. But right now, at this very moment, Elle felt no pain. Although flattered, her heart was surrounded by a wall she had spent years building up. Kissing Matt would be a risk, and Elle never took risks when it came to matters of her heart.

She wanted to kiss him. But she didn't.

Risk taking is often associated with recklessness. Just because a person is reckless, doesn't always mean they're a risk taker. Many a times, reckless people have trouble taking risks that don't involve actually being reckless; for they are often guarded, confused people.

It's all relevant though, because not taking a risk is actually a risk in and of itself.

* * *

**Any thoughts? Please let me know! Critique is ALWAYS welcome! Something big is going to happen in the next chapter.....any predictions? :) Don't hesitate to review, it's so helpful and inspiring to me! Take care, everyone! **

**Love, Brennan  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**I was absolutely blown away by the number of reviews I got for the last chapter! Thank you so much, I am WAY beyond grateful! :) **

**Many of you predicted similar things, let's see if you all were right! Happy reading! :)**

**

* * *

**

The heavy, smoky air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, before throwing back double shot of vodka.

Slamming the empty glass on the counter, she motioned her finger over at the surly looking bartender, who crossed his arms as he made his way back to the spot where she sat.

"You again? You're really throwing them back." He said with his deep, baritone voice, raising an eyebrow at her. "How about you take a break?"

"Am I paying you to keep track?" she frowned and tapped her empty glass several times.

"Suit yourself," he croaked, removing the empty shot glass and replacing it with a full one.

The whole room swayed as she watched him walk away.

"See, that wasn't so difficult," she said to nobody in particular, her words slurring together.

Her eyes drooped, and her head rolled forward before she jerked it back up again. Her arm felt as though it was made of lead as she raised the glass to her mouth.

Sometimes, after something life-altering takes place, many people often sit back to wonder exactly how they got there; how this life-altering event came to be, what happened before, and what's yet to come. At some point after a big shock, people just need to let their minds reel.

That's exactly what Elle Sawyer did as she sat alone in the dimly lit, smoke-filled bar, waiting for the deep-voiced bartender to fix her yet another drink.

She had been absolutely blindsided; Taken aback, shocked, startled, surprised, and any other adjective relevant to the matter. She could probably include 'betrayed', 'horrified' and 'furious' into the mixture of emotions as well.

The day had started out normal enough, but naturally, that's why life-altering news is such a big shock.

"You'll be fine running things by yourself this afternoon," Brooke had assured her, "Wednesdays are normally pretty slow,"

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Elle replied, "I've got it covered!"

Brooke, who was accompanying Nathan and Haley to take Gabriel and Joey to their summer basketball league tournament in Charlotte, was leaving her store in Elle's care that afternoon, something neither of them saw as remotely problematic. As Elle's stay in Tree Hill slowly crept up to the one month mark, she was growing more and more settled into this new chapter of her life.

"Okay, so I'll be back sometime around seven or so tonight, I'll come in to help you close up." Brooke said, grabbing her purse off of the counter, "I'll have my phone on, so you can call me if there are any problems,"

"I'm sure everything's going to be fine," Elle said, "Tell Joey good luck for me,"

"I will," Brooke grinned, "Thanks, sweetie, I really appreciate this! I'll see you tonight!"

"You're welcome!" Elle called, as Brooke exited through the front door, the bell tinkling lightly as it opened.

Brooke had been right- Wednesdays were incredibly slow. Not a single person had walked through the door _all _afternoon. Elle had kicked off the pair of incredibly uncomfortable black suede pumps Brooke had bought for her to wear while she worked in the boutique, and amused herself by taking outfits off of the rack and trying them on in the dressing room.

Then, at quarter to four, just as Elle began to nod off from behind the register, the noise of a cheerful tinkling bell jolted her awake.

She looked up, and sure enough, a blonde haired teenage girl holding a small book under one arm had walked through the door.

"Good afternoon, welcome to Clothes over Bros," Elle recited what Brooke had trained her to say as she greeted customers, "Need help finding anything today?"

The girl walked over to the desk. She was very pretty, and didn't look much younger than Elle. "Yeah, I'm actually looking for Brooke, is she here?"

"Brooke's in Charlotte for the day, but you can come by tomorrow, or leave her a message that I can give to her," Elle said.

"Oh, don't worry about it," The girl said, "I've been in Jamaica for the last two weeks, and well, we like had to come back early, because they're expecting a hurricane down there or whatever, so Brooke probably doesn't even know I'm back in town yet."

Elle looked at this girl curiously. Brooke had never mentioned knowing another teenage girl, but Elle supposed that wasn't a huge issue, considering that the only friends of Brooke she has met were Nathan and Haley.

"Anyway, before we left for Jamaica, Brooke was like considering giving me a job here for the summer," She raised an eyebrow at Elle, "But it looks like my position has been filled,"

"Uh," Elle didn't know if she was being insulted or not, "…sorry?"

"I like totally didn't mean to sound rude!" the girl said, obviously reacting to the look on Elle's face, "Sorry! So I don't think I've ever seen you around town before!"

"Oh, I haven't been here that long," Elle replied, "I'm from Los Angeles. I'm staying with Brooke, actually."

"No way!" she exclaimed, "How weird! So how do you know her? Did Brooke like adopt another kid?"

This girl was very talkative, Elle had noticed, her bubbly personality matching her bright floral sundress. Elle wasn't used to interacting with someone who emitted this much energy, with the exception of Joey. This girl reminded Elle of the girls she used to hang out with when she was still into cheerleading.

"No, uh, I'm an old family friend," Elle said slowly, then cocked her head at the bubbly blonde. "Wait…how do _you _know Brooke?"

"Oh, my parents are friends with her parents," she said airily, "but Brooke's like my cool aunt. I'm Grace, by the way, Grace Scott,"

"Scott?" Elle asked, "Like, Nathan and Haley Scott?"

"Yeah!" Grace exclaimed, "They're my aunt and uncle. My dad is Nathan's brother,"

"Small world," Elle sighed. She didn't know that Nathan had a brother in town.

"Alrighty, I'm just gonna leave Brooke a note," Grace said, "Got a pen?"

Grace set the book that had been tucked under her arm on the counter and reached for the pen Elle set on the counter. Elle quickly glanced at the book, and then did a double take.

She had seen it many times before, growing up in LA. It was something Elle always thought was strange- how her mother constantly read this book over, and over, and over; especially when she was in one of her downward spirals.

"My mom used to read this when I was a kid," She said curiously, running her fingertips along the cover.

"It's great! It's _such _a power love story," Grace gushed, setting the pen down on the counter. "_and _it's entirely true. My dad wrote it."

"Really?" Elle asked, looking up from the book and back at Grace. What was going on? This book was written by someone who lived in Tree Hill. Peyton had grown up in Tree Hill. Was there a parallel with this book that Elle had missed her whole life?

"Yeah! It's all about him coming of age or whatever in high school, but Brooke's in it, and so are Aunt Haley and Uncle Nathan. They were all friends in high school, but what the story really revolves around was my dad's undying love for Peyton Sawyer."

Elle wasn't sure if she had heard Grace correctly or not. The shock of this girl whom she had _never _met just utter her dead mother's name practically knocked the wind out of her.

"I'm sorry, what?" Elle felt her heart pounding through her ribcage. She pointed a shaky finger at the book. "Can…can I see that?"

"You can have it!" Grace said, pushing the book toward her, unaware of Elle's complete state of shock, "I've read it like three times already! And there are like a billion copies of it in my dad's closet. He hides them there, I'm not supposed to read them or whatever, but…"

Elle was not listening to Grace Scott, for her mind was spinning too greatly to concentrate on what she was chattering about. Could there really be something meaningful to the tattered old book she had watched her mom read and reread for years?

"I didn't catch your name," Grace's voice brought Elle back to earth, "What was it?"

"Oh…Elle. I'm Elle." she said distractedly, looking quickly up at Grace, and then back down at the book.

"It was nice meeting you, Elle," Grace said, "Hope to be seeing you around town and stuff, and enjoy the story!"

Elle mumbled an absentminded good-bye as Grace exited the store. What had Grace said? The author of this book was madly in love with Peyton Sawyer…and it was entirely true? What the _hell _was going on? Was this for real?

After a few seconds of clutching this copy of _An Unkindness of Ravens __by Lucas Scott _in her shaking hands, Elle opened the cover, her eyes hungrily taking in each word.

_Then _

"_Grandpa is making pasta, are you hungry?" Elle asked, as she hovered in her mother's doorway, while Peyton sat curled up in an armchair in the corner of the room, a glass in one hand and a book in the other. _

"_No thanks," Peyton said, not taking her eyes out of the book. _

"_What are you reading?" Elle asked, although she already knew that this was the only book her mother ever read. _

"_Complete bullshit," Peyton replied, taking a swig of vodka. _

"_If it's bullshit, then why are you reading it?" Elle shifted from food to foot on her long, chicken-y legs. _

_At ten years old, Elle was beginning to grow from the wide-eyed, innocent little girl who sat at the kitchen table, coloring pictures for her mother. She was emotionally maturing, beginning to process her observations more like an adult, rather than a curious child. Elle had experienced too much to remain a curious child. _

"_You are too young to be saying that word, Elle." Peyton said, still not looking up. _

"_It's just a word," Elle pushed. "I never understood why grown-ups make such a big deal about things like things like words. I hear it all the time; I should be able to say it, too." _

"_Elle, just be quiet," Peyton snapped, finally looking up at her daughter, "You're triggering my migraine." _

"_Sorry," Elle said quietly._

"_Out. Go on, get out." Peyton said, her eyes shooting back down at her book. "I want to be alone." _

_Elle quickly scampered back downstairs and into the kitchen, where Larry was straining the water out of a pot of spaghetti. _

"_Does she want some pasta?" Larry asked, as Elle approached him. _

"_No…," Elle sighed, "She said she's not hungry…again," _

"_Don't worry, hon," Larry looked down at the ten year old, smiling reassuringly, "We'll save her a bowl. I'll take it up to her later." _

"_Grandpa," Elle asked, as they both seated themselves at the kitchen table, bowls of spaghetti in their hands, "Why is mom always reading that book?" _

_Larry shrugged. "That story is something that brings her comfort; it takes her away from the here and now, from the current sadness and pain she is feeling," _

"_What's so terrible about the here and now?" Elle frowned, "We're here. Does she really think we're terrible too? Are we part of the reason she's feeling like this all the time?" _

_Growing up, she had always known her mom was sad. But now, as she grew older, she began to wonder why, began to wonder how she had gotten that way and why she could not get better. People could no longer tell her 'mommy is sad because she is sick'- Elle knew sadness was not a symptom of an illness like a cold or the flu. There was something wrong that was beyond the mere physicality of any kind of sickness she had ever known before. Elle knew now that it wasn't a normal kind of sick. _

_The subject of mental illnesses was new and somewhat fascinating to her. She had never really thought about people having problems like this before, but when putting the facts in context with her mother's way of being, it made a lot of sense. Usually if a person was sick, they got some antibiotics from the doctor and got better. Elle learned that Peyton's illness wasn't from a virus or something she caught, but a problem that was in her mind, in her brain. A problem that couldn't be fixed by taking medicine and feeling better. _

"_It's not us, Elle." Larry said, looking at her sadly, "It's not our fault, and it's not hers either. It's not something any of us can control." _

"_I just don't understand why she won't even try anymore." Elle said, "It's like she doesn't care about anything at all. She just sits in her room and doesn't do anything. And we aren't doing anything about it. How is any of this ever going to get better if nobody ever does anything?" _

_Grandpa Larry had recently started taking Peyton and Elle to see Dr. Asher, a short, middle-aged man who worked at the Family Counseling Center a few miles from home. Elle did not like these once a week, hour long sessions with Dr. Asher, but he had given her tips about dealing with a family member with this kind of mental illness. _

"_Be sympathetic; offer kindness and attention, even if it is not reciprocated_." _Dr. Asher had told her, "Try to be supportive, loving and empathic." _

_But Elle had always done these things. Nothing ever came out of it; nothing ever seemed to make Peyton any less depressed. Half of the time, Peyton refused to go to the sessions at all. Maybe Dr. Asher didn't know what he was talking about. _

"_It's not that simple, sweetheart," Larry sighed, "Your mom has to want to get better. Right now, she is in a place where getting better doesn't seem possible to her. Things just take time, but it will get better." _

"_But someone has to do something. I'm going to help her." Elle said, sitting up a little straighter in her chair, "I can do it, I know I can. I'll fix her heart and her mind and make her happy. I can make better."_

Now

Her mind spun. Thoughts and facts were swirling around in her head so fast that she felt lightheaded. She was breathing as though she had just run a marathon, even though she hadn't moved from her spot at the register in almost three hours.

Everything she wanted to know about Peyton's past had been right in front of her for years. This book held the key to her mother's old life. This book _was _her mother's old life.

There was so much she had learned that she didn't even know how to process it all. Her ears were buzzing and her limbs shook. She had read the entire novel, cover to cover. She had read everything about the epic love story that was Lucas and Peyton. She had learned that not only did her mother date Nathan, but had an affair with Lucas while he was with _Brooke. _She learned that her mother had been involved in a school shooting. She had been shot in the leg. How the hell didn't she know that her _mother _had once gotten shot in the leg?

She had known that Peyton had been adopted by Larry and Anna, and that Anna had been killed when Peyton was young, but Elle did not know that Peyton's biological mother, Ellie, had entered Peyton's life when Peyton was seventeen, only to succumb to breast cancer a few short weeks later. What the _fuck. _ Why hadn't anyone ever told her that her biological grandmother died of _breast cancer?! _ Why hadn't anyone ever told her any of this? Why hadn't she heard of Lucas Scott before?

Brooke entered the boutique at half past seven, feeling pleasantly cheerful, having had a fun afternoon in Charlotte with her friends and family.

"Hey there," She greeted, as the tinkling bell announced her entrance, "ready to lock up?"

Elle did not answer, but looked up at her with a face that Brooke did not recognize. She looked somewhat dazed, but indignant. Shocked, even. Her eyes looked lost.

"Elle?" Brooke was at her side in seconds, "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Why didn't you ever tell me about Lucas Scott?" Elle did not sound accusatory, but tentatively curious, as though she was unsure whether she wanted the answer or not.

Brooke froze. Everything and anything happy that she had been feeling immediately evaporated at the sound of Elle's words. Her heart began to beat rapidly, as her open mouth searched for words. "How...how did you find out about Lucas?"

Brooke's face paled as Elle held up an old copy of _Ravens_. "He loved my mom. He loved her so much he wrote a whole book about it! How come nobody has ever mentioned him before? Why didn't they get married? What happened?"

Brooke did not know what to say. This wasn't supposed to happen yet! Elle wasn't supposed to learn these things before Brooke could find it in herself to tell her!

"College." Brooke said, her voice sounding panicked, strange and low, "They went to two different schools at two ends of the country. It…it just didn't last."

Brooke knew by the look on Elle's face that she wasn't convinced. As she inwardly continued to panic, Brooke could see the wheels turning inside Elle's mind as she slowly but surely began to connect the dots. Elle's brow was furrowed, her eyes darting back and forth; then came the sharp intake of breath…and the epiphany. The inevitable had dawned on her at last.

She looked up at Brooke with wide eyes, speaking very slowly. "Brooke, is this man my father?"

"Elle..," Brooke began, terror swelling in her chest. She couldn't say no. Not when Elle had just asked her flat out. But how the hell was she going to explain this? Why hadn't she been more prepared about what to say?

"Is he?!" Elle demanded, her voice louder, almost angry.

"Yes."

Elle stared at her, before taking a step backward, bringing a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god,"

Elle began to pace, one hand on her hip, the other covering her mouth. "Oh my god…oh my god…,"

Shock, the pure and utter shock was almost too much to handle. She thought back to the moment she had found Brooke's letters in the basement, how Larry had hid them for years, had kept them a secret. Before she even realized what was happening, red hot anger began to bubble in Elle's stomach, the rage causing every single muscle in her body to tighten.

"Elle…," Brooke said slowly, looking shocked herself. Elle wheeled around to face her.

"The whole time-THE WHOLE TIME I've been here, you _lied _to me!" Elle cried, her voice growing louder with each word. "My whole life you've been lying to me! All those times I've asked you about my father when I was little! You _lied! _You, and my mom, and Grandpa Larry, ALL of you lied to me!"

"Elle, I didn't know how to tell you," While Elle's voice grew louder, Brooke's did just the opposite, retreating like a turtle into its shell.

"But I'm sure you didn't plan on me reading it in some damn book! Who else knew? Julian? Nathan and Haley?! I saw the way they were looking at me at dinner the other night! They knew!" Elle gave a cry of indignation, throwing her arms in the air. "And he _lives_ here! He lives here in Tree Hill. The WHOLE DAMN TIME I've been in the town where my father lives!"

"Elle calm down, please," Brooke said, reaching toward her, "I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am-,"

"DON'T!" Elle stepped backward. "All this time I've been in the same town as my asshole of a father who didn't even want me! The man who broke my mother's heart and screwed her up for life! WHY the _hell _did you keep this from me?! How dare you! How _dare you!_"

Before Brooke could even answer, Elle had pushed past her, threw open the door, and rushed into the summer night. She hadn't even made it ten feet up the street when she found herself face to face with Matt.

"Hey, I was just coming in to help close up," Matt said, then saw the distressed look on Elle's face. "Whoa, hey, are you alright?"

"Brooke…Brooke…," Elle spluttered, her entire body shaking, "She lied to me! She- she knows who my birth father is! She's _fucking_ known the whole time!"

"Elle, I…" Matt trailed off, shaking his head. Elle knew by his reaction to this news that this was so surprise to him either.

"Oh my god." She breathed, "Oh my god. You knew too."

"I-," He tried to speak, but Elle cut him off.

"You are unbelievable." Elle hissed. "You are _absolutely unbelievable_."

"I'm _sorry-," _Matt began, before Elle interrupted him again.

"YOU KNEW how much it hurt me not to know where he is!" She yelled, pushing his chest. "After everything I told you, after everything I said! I told you things that I have _never _told ANYBODY else! I trusted you! I fucking trusted you! And YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS!?"

"Just listen-," He tried to grab her arms, to hold her, but she pushed him away with all the strength she could muster. Matt staggered backward several steps, looking surprised.

"Don't ever talk to me again." Elle practically growled, "Stay the hell away from me."

With that, she turned her back on him, sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as she could.

"Elle!" she heard Matt call after her, "ELLE!"

She was running. Running past the restaurants and shops, up the hill, across the street and around a corner…she wanted to keep running, running until she couldn't run anymore. It didn't matter that she was wearing Brooke's three-inch heels, it didn't matter that she did not know what she was doing or where she was going. Her legs were moving madly, but she heard no sound of her footsteps on concrete, she did not hear the ragged breaths she drew. It was as though she was sprinting through a dream.

But she kept running. It seemed as though running was all she ever did. Running from things was easy. It's what happens when there's nowhere left to run that's hard.

* * *

"So what happened, exactly?" Julian's eyebrows creased.

"She read the book. Lucas's book." Brooke shook her head in defeat, "After that, everything all just spilled out. And then she took off."

"We looked for her everywhere," Matt sighed, "We have no idea where she is."

"I tried calling her, but her phone's in the kitchen." Brooke said, "She never took it into work today."

They were seated in the living room, and several hours had passed since Matt helped an almost tearful Brooke close up her store for the night, before they got in the car to search for Elle.

"Where the hell did she get the book?" Julian asked.

"I have no idea," Brooke took a deep breath, "I didn't get a chance to ask."

"I knew we shouldn't have lied." Matt said, his jaw clenched. "I knew this would end in something bad."

Brooke's eyes filled with tears and Julian put an arm around her.

"Let's not dwell on what we should or should not have done," he said, reasonably, "Let's just focus on finding where she went."

"We looked everywhere, all over town." Brooke buried her face in her hands. "God…what have I done…?"

"Let's all just calm down." Julian said, "Her stuff is still here. She doesn't have a car or a phone or clean clothes or anything with her. She couldn't have gone far."

"I just…I just don't…," Brooke took a deep breath. "We have to find her. I need to fix this."

"We will." Julian assured her. "I promise."

Matt stood up suddenly, a look of realization on his face. "I think I know where she is."

"What?" Brooke and Julian spoke in unison, looking up at their son.

"Just…let me go." Matt walked into the foyer, grabbing his keys off of a table, followed closely by his parents. "I'll be back."

Matt Baker was a smart person. Like Elle, his confusing, rocky childhood had taught him a lot about dealing with pain. He had grown into an excellent observer. He could read people. Elle was difficult for him to read, yet simple at the same time. She was guarded, not naturally, but as a result of things that had caused her pain in the past. He knew this kind of pain. He knew where she was.

The warm, thick, smoke filled air hit him with force as he entered the dirty old bar that he and Elle had sat parked in front of not even a week ago. Matt immediately spotted her, seated alone at the bar, her head resting in her arm on the counter. Rushing over to her, Matt looked up at the gruff, somewhat grumpy looking bartender.

"She with you?" He asked Matt, gesturing at Elle, who's head was still down.

"Yeah…," Matt placed his hand on Elle's back, and she stirred slightly. "How much has she had to drink?"

"I stopped counting after six shots." He shook his head. "Just get'er out of here,"

"Elle," Matt said gently, rubbing her back. It was several moments before she lifted her head, looking at him with heavy, drunken eyes.

"What the hell do you want?" She asked her words slurred and low, "Didn't I say that I didn't want to see you… ever again?"

"Come on, let's get you home," Matt lifted Elle's arm over his shoulder, carefully sliding her out of her seat.

"No…," Elle moaned, but did nothing to prevent him from moving her from her current spot. "Get off me,"

She immediately fell against him as her feet hit the floor, her ankles wobbling in Brooke's heels. Matt grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up. Her breath, her hair, her very pores reeked of alcohol.

Practically dragging her along, Matt led her out of the bar and to the Jeep. He placed her limp body in the passenger's seat, fastening the seatbelt across her waist.

"Geez, Elle…," He sighed, not really talking to her, "I thought kids with no parents were supposed to know their alcohol intake limits."

She squinted at him. "I thought kids with no parents weren't supposed to be assholes to other kids with no parents. I hate you."

Matt looked at her sadly, before shutting her door and climbing into the driver's seat.

"I hate you, I told you secrets and I hate you. You lied to me, I hate you." She mumbled, her head drooping forward.

"I know." Matt said, starting the engine, and pulling out of the parking lot. "And I'm sorry."

"I hate you."

Elle continued to grumble drunken insults all the way back to Brooke's house. After walking her up the driveway with much difficulty, Matt and Elle clambered through the front door, Julian and Brooke rushing in before Matt had even fully closed the door.

"Oh, thank god," Brooke said.

"Where did you find her?" Julian asked, noticing the state Elle was in.

"Is she drunk?" Brooke asked, alarmed. She glanced from Matt to Elle, who had temporarily let go of Matt, swaying where she stood.

"What the hell do you think?" Elle retorted, before taking a step and immediately falling forward.

"Whoa, okay," Julian lunged forward, catching her around the torso.

Brooke shook her head, "Let's get her upstairs. Put her in our bathroom."

Julian lifted Elle's feet off the ground, carrying her like a small child as she took her up the stairs. Brooke and Matt followed close behind them.

Almost immediately after Julian had placed her on the bathroom floor, Elle's head had found the toilet, where she began to heave loudly.

"I've got it from here, thanks, guys." Brooke whispered to her boys, rubbing a hand thankfully on Matt's shoulder, as they stepped out of the master bathroom. Brooke closed the bathroom door and joined Elle on the floor, gathering her curls and holding them back.

"Elle, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Brooke said softly.

"You lied to me," Elle slurred, "You lied and you're a liar,"

"I know, I know." Brooke rubbed circles on Elle's back as she retched again.

"You're all liars. I'm _so mad _at you." Elle sat up, looking at Brooke through sad, heavy eyes. "You're liars, and I hate you. I hate mom, and I hate Matt and Grandpa. I hate everything."

Elle's jumbled drunken words tore at Brooke's heart. "And I hate me. I hate me. I hate me, I yelled at grandpa and I killed him!"

"Sweetie, he had a heart attack," Brooke said, as Elle wiped her mouth, "It was an accident,"

"I'm so dizzy," Elle replied, falling forward into Brooke's lap. Brooke ran her fingers through Elle's curls, so much like Peyton's, as Elle quickly fell asleep. Brooke thought back to the days in high school when she and Peyton used to tend to each other's drunken selves.

When it had been Brooke's head in the toilet, Peyton had been so caring, so motherly toward Brooke. How did Peyton go from that caring, loving best friend to a withdrawn, broken, scared woman who eventually put herself out of her own misery? How are things like that even possible?

Sometimes, after something life-altering takes place, many people often sit back to wonder exactly how they got there.

But that doesn't always make it better. Actually, dwelling on things like that can often make the situation feel worse.

Brooke sighed sadly as she looked down at the sleeping girl in her lap. The little girl who used to make herself feel better by coloring pictures at the kitchen table now made herself feel better by getting wasted, alone. Her best friend, who used to be lively, artistic and talented, was dead. How had they all gotten here?

How did Brooke end up here, on her bathroom floor, tending to Peyton's drunk and heartbroken daughter?

At some point after a big shock, people just need to let their minds reel. About how they got there; how this life-altering event came to be, what happened before, and especially…what is yet to come.

* * *

**Hm, so what did you think? Was her reaction understandable, or should Elle have handled the news differently? What's going to happen now that she knows the truth? What about Brooke? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Any criticism or problems? Any other characters you'd like to see? Just let me know!!! You all are so beyond wonderful! Until next time, take care!! **

**Love, Brennan  
**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello, all you avid readers! :) YOU ALL ARE WONDERFUL! thank you so so SOOOO much for the amazing feedback! **

**Anyway, this chapter is basically a filler for the chapter after this one, so it might seem like things are happening a little abnormally, but it's really just so I can get the ball rolling. :) Enjoy! **

**

* * *

**

"Hey there,"

Elle rolled over in her bed, looking up at the door. Brooke stood in the doorway, a mug in her hand.

Brooke's figure was slightly fuzzy as Elle squinted at her, her eyes adjusting to the extremely harsh morning light peeking through the curtains. Her head ached, as though someone was repeatedly smashing her skull with a hammer. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls, and her stomach was bubbly and sour.

Everything that had happened from the night before came rushing back like a ton of bricks being dropped on her chest. It was all still so…_unbelievable. _Her father lived in Tree Hill. Her father was here.

"How are you feeling?" Brooke asked, stepping into the room and closing the door slightly.

"Like hell," Elle croaked, sitting up slowly. She momentarily closed her eyes as she was hit with a sudden wave of nausea.

"I'd assume so," Brooke raised an eyebrow, handing Elle the mug of coffee in her hands. Elle took it gratefully, as Brooke hovered awkwardly next to the night table.

"Can I join you?" she asked, tentatively, almost nervously, gesturing to the bed.

"It's your house," Elle shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. It warmed her throat all the way down, but made her stomach churn again. Elle took a deep breath, willing herself not to be sick.

Brooke seated herself gingerly on the end of Elle's bed, clutching her hands together. Elle knew that Brooke was trying to find the words to explain what she had tried to explain last night. The rims of Brooke's eyes were swollen, but Elle couldn't tell if she had been crying, or just had a hard time sleeping the night before.

Elle suddenly felt somewhat guilty upon seeing the distressed look on Brooke's face. She knew that Brooke was a loving, good person. She knew that Brooke would never _intentionally _do anything to hurt her.

News has a funny way of bringing new insight to someone's opinion of something. Her opinion of Brooke had gone from loving surrogate mommy, to lying, deceiving traitor, to confused, hurt woman, trying to figure out how to handle a difficult situation, all in the span of about twelve hours.

Yes, the shock of having found out who her father was had not passed in the slightest, but some of the anger had.

Maybe it was just because Elle was far too hungover to be angry, or maybe she was just stifling her anger, something she had to do her whole life, living in Peyton's house. She was, of course, still in complete and utter disbelief that so many people had kept this kind of information from her. But at that moment, looking at Brooke on the end of her bed, Elle knew that Brooke didn't cover it up to be mean.

"I didn't mean to take off and get wasted last night," Elle said, taking the initiative to speak first, "I shouldn't have done that."

"I know." Brooke moved closer up the bed, sitting Indian-style across from Elle. She took a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you about Lucas, Elle. I just…,"

Brooke trailed off, hanging her head. "I just…I _never _wanted to hurt you. When your mom got pregnant, she was go scared, so alone and terrified. She had been hurt and stung so many times, and she wanted to make sure that never happened to you,"

Elle snorted at the irony of Brooke's words.

"I made your mother a promise that I would help her keep you from the people who had hurt her the most." Brooke continued. "After I fell out of your lives, and after she died, things just got so messy. And when you showed up here…I couldn't find a way to tell you…not after so many years of not being in your life. I was waiting for the right time."

"You really should have told me," Elle said softly, "I didn't deserve to be kept in the dark like that. I didn't deserve all of the lies and deception."

"And I am so, incredibly sorry," Brooke said, her eyes shining.

"But I understand." Elle said, "I know that it's kind of a hard thing to tell somebody who just came back into your life."

Brooke nodded, resting a hand on Elle's knee as Elle pressed on. "And the truth is, I probably would have been mad at you either way; if you told me when I got here or if you told me now. It's something you kept from me throughout my childhood, and I probably won't get over that for a while…but I get that you kept it a secret because you were being a good friend to my mom. You were always good to her."

"I _never_ wanted to hurt you." Brooke said again, taking Elle's hand, "Please, believe that,"

"I do," Elle squeezed Brooke's hand, "I'm just…trying to deal with it all."

"I know, sweetheart," Brooke reached up with her free hand, running it along Elle's curls. "And I'll let last night's drunken show slide, as long as it doesn't happen again."

"That's fair," Elle sighed, lying back down. Brooke moved over, laying herself down as well.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, lying on their backs, gazing up at the ceiling. Faint, cheery voices were heard from downstairs- Joey and Avery watching early morning cartoons.

"Brooke, tell me about Lucas," Elle broke the silence.

"Lucas is…," Brooke mused, not really knowing where to begin, "incredible. He's smart, insightful, kind, brave…a lot like you, actually."

Elle blinked, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. It was strange hearing Brooke compare her to her father- another interesting insight this news had brought. Everybody _always _remarked how she looked so much like Peyton. Elle had never really thought about what traits- if any- she had inherited from her father.

"He cares for people. I've known Lucas for a long time, and even when you were young, I saw him in you every day. Your ability to see the good in almost anyone or anything, the way you were fiercely loyal to your mother, even through all the ups and downs she took you through…," Brooke looked at Elle, "and your ability to forgive,"

Elle faced Brooke, who smiled at her. "Your mom had an amazing heart and a fiery personality. But she had a little trouble with holding grudges. She wouldn't have been able to forgive me this easily."

Elle looked back up at the ceiling. "He doesn't sound like the kind of person who can just abandon a family."

Brooke rolled onto her side, as Elle's head snapped back in her direction. "Elle, Lucas never knew that your mom had ever gotten pregnant. He doesn't even know you exist."

"He…he didn't walk out on us?" Elle sat up again, "He doesn't even know about me?"

Brooke sat up as well, nodding solemnly. Elle clenched her jaw. The all too familiar feeling of resentment and disappointment toward her mother had returned, nestling itself deep in her chest.

"All those years of my mom telling my how he was a hateful bastard who broke her heart…," she gave a dry, bitter laugh. "God, my mom _would _say something like that. I mean, I shouldn't even be surprised at this point."

"That's not fair, Elle, he _did _break your mom's heart. Probably not exactly in the way you played it in your head, but it did happen. Lucas is not a bad person, but he _is _guilty of breaking her heart." Brooke said sternly, looking into Elle's pained, blue eyes. "I know that you're angry and me, and at her, but don't blame your mom for this one. She made the decisions that she made, with you in her best interest. She cared about you."

_Then_

"_Hey there," _

_Brooke slowly stepped into Peyton's dark bedroom, a mug of coffee in her hands. Peyton sat up in bed, a palm against her forehead. "Hey," _

"_How are you feeling?" Brooke asked, handing the mug to Peyton. _

"_Like hell," Peyton said dryly, clutching the mug in her hands. _

"_I'd assume so," Brooke replied, sitting herself next to Peyton._

_The previous night had been rough. While Peyton continued to sink into a deeper and deeper depression, Larry suggested maybe Peyton should spend some time away, getting professional help. This suggestion, naturally, did not go over well with his daughter. _

_Furious, outraged and hurt, Peyton drove off, leaving a helpless Larry watching the retreating form of her Comet disappearing further and further down the street. _

_Brooke and Larry searched for her all evening, finally finding Peyton alone, and very drunk, at a bar across town. Getting her home was extremely difficult, for the angry blonde kicked and screamed and resisted the whole way there. _

_Once back in the house, a very intoxicated Peyton cried, shouted, and screamed at the both of them, telling them that they had NO place controlling her like a child, and they were NOT going to ship her off to a mental institution. Larry and Brooke tried to explain, tried to reason, but Peyton would not hear it. As her temper continued to flare up, Peyton began smashing things, first a glass, then the lamp that sat on the coffee table; all the while, a wide-eyed, terrified, seven year old Elle watched helplessly from the top of the stairs. _

_It wasn't long before Brooke found herself sitting next to her best friend on the bathroom floor, Peyton's heaves met with dry, heart-wrenching sobs._

_And now they were here.  
_

"_I didn't mean to get so out of control last night," Peyton said, "I'm sorry, Brooke." _

"_It's okay." Brooke said sadly, rubbing a hand on Peyton's bony shoulder. _

"_I hope I didn't scare Elle." Peyton looked at Brooke, worry in her eyes. "I hope she is okay," _

"_She's the toughest seven-year-old in the world." Brooke assured her, "She's going to be fine." _

_Peyton bit her lip, her eyes filling with tears. "When did everything become so complicated? When did things stop making sense?"_

_Brooke closed her eyes, not knowing what to say. She asked herself that very same question every day. _

"_Nothing has been the same since I lost John. I don't smile like I used to. All I can do is read that book and dream about back then," Peyton shook her head. "Back when we found inspiration in everything, when all we needed was each other, me, and you, Lucas, Nathan and Haley. Back when we had things to believe in. I hate who I am now. I hate that everything is so lost now. I hate that I don't have anything to believe in anymore." _

"_Peyton, you still have me," Brooke said fiercely, taking Peyton's hand, "and you have Elle. Elle is growing every day, and she adores you so much. All she does is draw. She draws like you. She wants to be you. Don't let her grow up not knowing how loving and passionate and strong you really are! Give HER something to believe in!" _

"_I love her so much," Peyton said, a tear trickling down her face, "I just…I don't know how it feels to be happy anymore. I can't remember how not to feel sad." _

"_You know what you have to do, Peyton," Brooke said quietly, "You need to get help. For yourself and your daughter." _

"_I know," Peyton whispered, and then looked at Brooke, speaking a little louder. "I'll do it. I'll let myself be helped." _

"_I'm proud of you, P.," Brooke's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. _

"_I know I'm difficult sometimes," Peyton said, "but I want you to know that I appreciate you begin here with me, giving so much up for me and Elle. I know I don't usually show it, but I'm so thankful for how good you are to me. I love you B. Davis,"_

"_I love you too, Peyton." _

Now

She knew exactly where to find him.

Her hair billowed in the oceanfront wind as she climbed down the wooden stairs of the dock, immediately spotting Matt sitting at their usual spot by the sea grass.

He did not speak as she approached him, but flashed her a sad, apologetic smile as she seated herself in the beach chair next to his.

"Hey," She said softly, over the rhythmic crashing of the waves.

"Hey," he replied, trying to read her expression, trying to see whether she was coming down here to tell him off again.

"Look," she inhaled, "I didn't mean to freak out on you like that. I was just shocked…really shocked."

"No, I shouldn't have kept that from you," Matt shook his head, apologetically, "It was a shitty thing to do. I hated that I lied."

"Yeah, it _was_ a shitty thing to do." Elle said, "But I think I know you well enough now to know that you weren't doing it to deliberately hurt me. You just got caught up in the madness like everyone else."

Elle could not explain why she was feeling so forgiving today. She did not know why she wasn't still completely outraged, hurt and betrayed like she had been the night before. She supposed that her heart could have been softened by learning that her father, Lucas Scott, had not abandoned her after all, but had never known about her at all.

After everything she had read about him, and everything Brooke had told her, Elle knew Lucas Scott was a good person. Maybe in learning this, she was able to push past all of the hurt and anger about the whole situation, and appreciate that her hope of having a relationship with one of her parents was not lost after all.

"I never wanted to betray your trust." Matt said, "I know how much you value it. I hope you can forgive me, Elle."

"As long as there aren't any other long lost mothers, fathers, cousins, or siblings you know about," Elle grinned.

Matt laughed. "There aren't. At least, not that I know of, anyway."

"And thank you for taking care of me last night," Elle hung her head at the memory, "I hope I didn't do anything to terrible,"

Matt smiled, "Only tell me you hate me about a million times,"

"And what, did I make you cry?" Elle grinned, joking.

"No way, dude, _you _did all the crying," Matt said, crossing his arms.

"Did not!" Elle exclaimed, scrunching her face in distaste, "Please.I would have remembered if I _cried _or not."

For Elle, it was such an intense sign of weakness, crying; A humiliating and demeaning way to express emotion. She always had to be strong. She had to be strong for Peyton. She had to be strong for Larry, and then she had to be strong in front of Moe and all of her friends. She would have never dared cry in front of Moe. Elle had already been labeled the baby. Tears wouldn't have made that label any easier to drop.

She had suppressed and masked her pain for so long, Elle wasn't even sure how felt to just flat out, straight up _cry. _Now, it almost seemed like a foreign language, and she was very afraid of experiencing it. To experience that vulnerability, the _shame, _to have someone look upon her and see the pain pool out of her eyes and down her face was absolutely terrifying.

That, Elle knew, is one opinion that wasn't going to change any time soon.

"Why, do kids with no parents not cry?" Matt raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Elle looked out at the ocean for a moment, the salty air brushing against her bare shoulders. It was strange, how the news of last night had changed her perception of so many things so quickly. Maybe everyone from her past hadn't been all bad. Maybe she finally had a chance at having a beautiful relationship with the father she had always dreamed of.

Yes, news has a funny way of bringing new insight to someone's opinion of something. Whether it is good, bad, or only heightening one's already formed belief, it is very rare for someone's mindset to remain completely the same.

"I'm not a kid with no parents anymore," Elle said, as Matt put his arm around her, "My father is Lucas Scott."

* * *

**So I know that it seems like Elle was SUPER quick to forgive Brooke and Matt for what they had done, but I decided not to waste a chapter dwelling on the fact that they lied and blah, blah, blah, because I feel like it would have been strung out for far too long- and plus, I'm really anticipating my next chapter, it's definitely going to be one of the biggest landmark chapters for this story. Who's excited? ha! **

**Anyway, reviews are, of course, always appreciated (because I never pester you guys enough!), and I'd love to hear predictions/wishful thinkings any of you have for future chapters! Who knows, you could inspire an idea for me ;) **

**Likes? Dislikes? Hmm...let me know! **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hellooooo :) First I would like to express my gratitude toward all of my reviewers- you all never fail to impress me with your feedback, and it really gives me so much confidence as a writer. Thank you all so much :)**

**I need to address an issue before anyone starts reading this- This chapter is one of my more emotional ones, and there are some references to suicide. If you feel like this will upset you or provoke negative feelings, I urge you not to engage in this material. And if you are reading this, please look for my disclaimer at the bottom of the page. Thanks, everyone :)**

**

* * *

  
**

Thomas Jefferson once said, "Nothing gives one person so much advantage over another as to always remain cool and unruffled under any circumstances."

It seems a very sensible, plausible thing to say, to remain 'cool and unruffled'. To stay level-headed in a crisis is not only a valuable trait to possess, but one that can say a lot about one's character.

People who have little control of their emotions are often seen as immature, overly sensitive, rash, hot-headed. They can be easily misunderstood, easily provoked, easily hurt.

Those who are able to remain calm during a crisis can be seen as collected, strong, brave, among other things. Many hold these kinds of people in a higher respect than those who express their emotions freely and strongly.

But who's to judge either of these types of people? Does Thomas Jefferson's statement apply to every single aspect of life, no matter how tragic or painful? Are these seemingly level-headed people really strong and brave, or are they afraid, afraid of the vulnerability that is associated with showing one's emotions?

So who's the stronger person? The one who can bottle everything up inside, or the one who is not afraid to express what they feel?

_Then_

"_I have something that I need to talk to you about," Larry said, as Elle took a seat at the kitchen table, facing him. _

"_Is everything okay?" She asked the older man, her forehead creasing in concern. _

"_No…it's…," Larry sighed, "You know your mom hasn't been doing very well lately." _

"_She's just in one of her down phases." Elle said, "She always comes out of them eventually," _

"_It's different this time, Elle," he shook his head, "She refuses to eat. She hardly ever leaves her room. It's not okay. I think I'm…I'm going to send her to a hospital."_

"_What? No!" Elle gasped, "No, you can't put her away again! It didn't work six years ago; who's to say it's going to work now?"_

"_Look, I don't know what else to do." Larry said, "She's past the point where it will steadily come up again. This is rock bottom, Elle. She needs to be helped, or she won't make it." _

_Elle's eyes widened. Larry sighed apologetically, wishing he could find a better way to break the news. Sometimes he forgot that Elle was only thirteen. _

"_She doesn't need to go to a hospital!" Elle protested, "She just needs to be stronger and try harder!" _

"_It's not that simple, sweetheart." Larry said, rubbing his face with one hand, "I should have done this years ago. Her illness is more than I can handle by myself." _

_Elle stood up. "I'M handling this too! I am trying! We can do this! Me and you and mom. We're a team! Sure we may be all messed up and broken, but we can do this if we just try harder!" _

"_This is out of our hands, hon." Larry stood up as well, pulling the young teenager into a hug. "It doesn't mean that we are giving up on her, and it doesn't mean that we don't love her." _

"_But-," Elle protested, pulling away, _

"_Her depression has gotten so out of control that she does not want to be helped, and she has no motivation to get better. She's become an endangerment to herself, and to you. If we have any hope of improving her condition, we need to get her professional help. We are doing this BECAUSE we love her. She needs to spend some time in a hospital. Do you understand?" _

_Elle's shoulders sank in defeat, "Yes." _

"_I knew you'd give up on me," _

_Elle and Larry both looked to the far side of the kitchen, where Peyton stood in the doorway, disbelief etched across her gaunt, sunken face. They did not hear her come down, and didn't know how long she had been standing there, listening to them talk about her. _

"_I knew it." She said flatly, before turning to go back upstairs, "People always leave." _

Now

Brooke had always found washing dishes to be peaceful. She could not really explain how this came to be, but washing dishes had always been a trick she used to clam herself down, or needed to deeply think about something. It was like yoga, or tai chi. Doing dishes allowed time to mellow, to chill out, to unwind. It was her way of cleansing her soul.

She had a mantra when it came to washing dishes. She would first do the silverware, then the glasses and cups, followed by plates, pots, casserole dishes. She saved the best for last- the more interesting dishes, such as potato peelers, cheese graders and colanders.

She inhaled slowly, letting the lemony-scented soap spell fill her nostrils, as the warm water splashed across her hands. Washing dishes always made Brooke feel at peace.

Until the doorbell rang.

It was unusual to get visitors at 8:00 on a Sunday evening, but Brooke, cheerfully calm from her nightly dishwashing, was not fazed as she made her way out of the kitchen and into the foyer. That cheery calmness, however, immediately disappeared as she opened the door.

"Brooke!" Lindsey Scott squealed, holding out her arms, "We're back!"

Brooke's eyes widened in surprise as she saw not only Lindsey, but Lucas and Grace standing on her front porch as well. _Shit. _After pausing for a moment, Brooke plastered an excited smile across her face, greeting them happily.

"Wow, hi!" she said, ignoring the way her heart was thumping rapidly from behind her ribcage, "I, uh, wasn't expecting you all to get home until next week!"

"We had to leave early," Lindsey shrugged, "They were going to get some bad weather. Anyhou, I _know_ that I should have called first, but we have the most ahh-mazing pictures to show you!"

"I…," Brooke began, biting her lip.

"And gifts!" Lindsey held up a brown paper bag, "And Lucas has champagne,"

"That I do," Lucas smiled, holding a bottle up for Brooke to see.

She couldn't let them in. Elle was home. She couldn't let this happen- Elle had already been blindsided with the shock of this news. She didn't want it to happen to Lucas too. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

"You told us to drop by when we got back," Lindsey said, "I know that we're back a little early, but…,"

Brooke thought back to this conversation that she had with Lindsey. Although it had been only a little over a month since it had taken place, it felt like a completely different lifetime. It _was _a different lifetime. So much had changed over the course of the month.

She couldn't let them in, not now. Just as Brooke was about to turn them away, an excited gasp erupted from down the hallway.

"UNCLE LUCAS!" energetic Joey cried, as he dashed over to the door, pushing past Brooke, "You're back!"

"You bet, bud!" Lucas grinned, as Joey took him by the hand.

"I got a trophy from the basketball tournament this week! Wanna see!?" Joey began pulling Lucas into the house, chattering a mile a minute.

Before Brooke could even react to what was going on, Lindsey and Grace had stepped into the foyer, and Lucas was already halfway down the hall with Joey.

Rigid with panic, Brooke prayed that Matt and Elle were still down at the beach, where they had been for the last couple of hours. She needed to tell Lucas, she needed to tell him before he ran into Elle, before both of them were bombarded. But right now, she _needed_ to get him out of her house.

Inwardly freaking out, Brooke raced after Joey and Lucas, who had entered the kitchen, where Joey was proudly holding his new basketball trophy in the air.

"Joey, you're going to have to show Uncle Lucas your trophy another time," Brooke said, keeping her voice as level as possible, "I want you to go upstairs and get ready for bed,"

"But _mom!_" Joey protested.

"_Now," _Brooke hissed, and Joey, who noted the tone in his mother's voice, folded his arms and exited the kitchen, grumbling.

"Look, I'm sorry, but now's really not a good time for a visit," she said. "Can you guys come back tomorrow, or maybe Tuesday?"

"Are you sure?" Lucas asked.

"Yeah, I," Brooke paused, looking around the kitchen, as though Elle was going to pop out at any moment, "I just have a lot to do tonight,"

"Are you okay, Brooke?" Lucas looked at her, concerned. She could feel his eyes burrowing into her soul. Lucas Scott could always read her. "What's the matter?"

"I'm fine, just-,"

Before she could finish her sentence, Brooke heard the back door creak open, as Matt and Elle entered the kitchen, chatting lightly. Her heart stopped as Lucas glanced in their direction.

_No! No, no, no! _This can't be happening again! She wasn't supposed to let Elle get ambushed again! She wasn't supposed to let Lucas find out like this, in front of his family and caught completely off guard! It wasn't supposed to happen like this!

"Matt!" Lucas greeted the teenage boy, "How've you been, man?"

Matt and Elle look up, noticing the new person that had entered the house since they had been outside.

Brooke watched the scene unfold, as though she was standing helplessly behind a thick sheet of glass. No matter how much she wanted to prevent it, the inevitable was happening…again. All she could do was continue to have an inverted panic attack. _Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!_

"I've been great, Lucas," Matt said, a stress on the word 'Lucas'. Brooke saw Elle immediately tense up, her eyes widening at the man standing merely feet from her.

Lucas's eyes immediately snapped to Elle. Brooke's heart raced as she watched him stare at her, and her stare at him. She was panicking. She desperately wanted to say something to them, to help them, but Brooke could not find any words. It was though her voice had shut off.

"Who are you?" Lucas asked slowly, his eyes fixed curiously on Elle, "You look so much like…but…,"

"Lucas…," Brooke whispered, finally finding her voice. What could she say? How could she possibly make an excuse for this one?

"What's going on?" Grace entered the kitchen, followed by Lindsey. "Hey, Elle, right? I met you at clothes over bros the other day?"

"Elle's visiting from California," Matt said quickly, as Lucas continued to study Elle's face. "She's an old friend of the family."

Elle, who was glancing from Lucas, to Brooke, to Grace, looked absolutely frazzled. Lucas finally broke his gaze and turned to Brooke.

"Brooke?" he asked, confusion etched across every line in his face.

"Brooke," Elle whispered, her voice thin.

"Brooke?" Lindsey asked as well.

"Brooke," Grace looked at Brooke, "Are you okay? You look like you're going to throw up,"

They were all staring at her, waiting for her to say something. There was no escaping this. All she could do now as remain calm, to practice remaining cool and unruffled. She took a deep breath before walking over to Elle.

"Lucas, I have to tell you something." She said, as her stomach continued to somersault over and over, "Elle is visiting from California. This is Elle Sawyer,"

_Then_

_Her indignant cries rang through the whole house. There was no escaping the noise. Elle sat on the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest as she watched Peyton stomp around the living room, Larry trying his best to reason with his daughter. _

"_I DON'T NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL AGAIN!" she shouted, pointing a finger at Larry. "YOU PUT ME AWAY AND I CAN PROMISE YOU, I WON'T MAKE IT!"_

"_You need help, honey! I love you, and Elle loves you. We love you enough to do what's right for your mental health!" Larry reasoned, his voice strained, "You need HELP!"_

_Peyton threw her hands in the air. "MY HUSBAND IS DEAD! MY DAUGHTER HATES ME! OF COURSE I NEED HELP!"_

"_Mom! I don't hate you! I love you!" Elle jumped up, rushing over to her mother. She was almost as tall as her now, "I love you!" _

_Peyton, however, looked past Elle and glared at Larry. "That's real nice, Dad. How much did you pay her to say that?"_

"_Peyton!" Larry gasped, looking extremely stung. "I would never-," _

"_He didn't tell me to say that! I love you mom! I love you!" Elle cried, grabbing her mother by the arms, as though about to shake her. _

_Peyton bent over slightly, screaming in Elle's face. "NO YOU DON'T! YOU COULD NEVER LOVE SOMEONE LIKE ME! YOU DON'T LOVE ME!"_

"_Yes I do!" Elle said loudly. Peyton broke away from the young girl's grasp, looking from Elle to Larry with wild eyes. _

"_I'M FUCKING UNLOVEABLE!" Peyton screamed, as she turned to stomp back up to her room, "AND I'M NOT GOING TO SOME MENTAL HOSPITAL! I WON'T" _

Now

"Sawyer…," Lucas repeated, pausing several moments before speaking again. "…Peyton? Peyton had a child?"

"Oh my God," Lindsey whispered, covering her mouth. Grace's jaw dropped.

"You're Peyton Sawyer's daughter?" Lucas turned to Elle, sounding shocked and aghast. Brooke held her breath, as though bracing herself for an explosion.

"Y-Yes," Elle stammered, as Matt put a protective arm around her.

"How old are you?" Lucas asked, sounding almost accusatory.

"Lucas, stop," Brooke said warningly, stepping forward.

"How old are you?" he asked again, ignoring Brooke.

"Eighteen," Elle whispered. Brooke had never heard Elle sound so small.

"Oh my god," Lucas gasped. Brooke could almost see the wheels turning in his head, calculating the years. "Oh God,"

"Oh my god," Lindsey said again, obviously coming to the same realization.

"Okay-," Brooke began, but was immediately cut off.

"Are you mine?" Lucas asked of Elle, "Are you?!"

If remaining level-headed, or 'cool and unruffled', as Mr. Jefferson had put it, was really as vital as many believe it to be, then everyone standing in Brooke's kitchen would be in deep trouble regarding their current situation, for each and every one of them was absolutely nowhere near 'cool and unruffled.'

Maybe none of them can be considered 'strong' anymore.

Elle helplessly glanced up at Brooke, her eyes wide, almost fearful. "I…Uh, I, I'm going to go upstairs,"

Brooke watched helplessly as Elle retreated out of the kitchen, like a small dog with its tail between its legs, Matt close behind her. Brooke could have cried. Everything was happening so fast- she wasn't supposed to let this happen! She couldn't stand to see everyone all hurt and confused like this. Her heart continued to pound, as she twisted her sweaty fingers around each other against her abdomen.

"Brooke! Is she mine?" Lucas asked urgently,

"Lucas…," Brooke was the one whispering now,

"Answer me!" Lucas demanded, "Is that girl my child?"

"Yes," Brooke breathed, her voice trembling, as it always did when she began to lose control of her emotions, "She never wanted you to find out about the baby, Luke. And I helped her. I helped her keep it a secret. And I am so, so sorry for that."

Brooke expected there to be more "oh-my-god's" or cries of disbelief as she dove into the story of Elle coming to Tree Hill, but she heard silence. Lucas stood there, his mouth wide open in shock Lindsey and Grace didn't look any less surprised than Lucas.

"I need to see if she's okay," Brooke said, "I'm so sorry you had to find out like this, and I know that I owe you a better explanation, but I just need to run upstairs and see if she's okay,"

Lucas continued to stare in absolute shock as Brooke turned and made her way into the hallway.

"I'll be right back." She turned to them one last time before disappearing up the stairs. "I am so, so sorry."

Elle was white-faced and leaning against the banister as Brooke reached the second floor landing. Matt stood next to the blonde, looking unsure what to do.

They watched from above, in silence, as Lucas quickly emerged out of the kitchen, making his way into the foyer at an alarming pace. Lindsey and Grace scampered after him, and it was only moments before the three shocked Scotts had left the house, slamming the door behind them. Maybe she wouldn't be joining them back downstairs after all.

"Elle," Brooke turned to her, "I am so sorry, I know you were ambushed. I had no idea that they were going to show up here-,"

"You've uh, been saying 'I'm sorry' a lot lately," Elle let out a sigh. Brooke couldn't read the expression on Elle's face, but it looked almost like a cross between resentment and disappointment.

"I know," Brooke shook her head sadly, placing a hand on Elle's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Elle said flatly, though Brooke knew she was not telling the truth.

"No, you're not." Brooke said, as Elle huffed.

"I don't want to talk right now, okay?" Elle said, as Matt looked up at Brooke. "I'm so tired."

"She's still reeling, Brooke," He said, as Elle looked down at her feet. "Just give her a minute."

Brooke couldn't just stand here and say _nothing _as Elle continued to look absolutely distraught. She wished that Elle would just _tell her _how she was feeling. Brooke hated playing guessing games. And she knew that not talking about it would not resolve the situation at all, no matter how much Elle wanted to clam up. Elle was so much like Peyton in that way, but Brooke had always managed to make Peyton open up to her somehow. She couldn't just give her a minute.

"I know that he didn't seem very warm and inviting, but he was just shocked-," Brooke tried to continue, as Elle pushed past her, making to go into her bedroom.

"Can we please talk about it in the morning?" Elle asked, her pained eyes gleaming with the emotion that she refused to express "I just want to sleep this all off,"

"Elle, just let me-," Brooke pratically pleaded,

"I'm fine," Elle said again. "Please, I just need to rest."

Before Brooke could do anything else, Elle had closed the door in her face.

It probably is not very plausible to try and find the stronger person when comparing someone who is emotional, and someone who holds it in; because the sad truth is, everyone looses control of themselves at one time or another.

_Then_

"_I called them." Larry said sadly, as Elle entered the kitchen. _

"_Who, Grandpa?" Elle asked. _

"_The doctors." His eyes were fixed out the kitchen window, into the dark, black night. "They are going to be here in about fifteen minutes to…take her." _

_Peyton had refused to come out of her room for going on three days, ever since she had found out that her family was going to have her committed. It was a frightening thing for Elle to witness; the complete breakdown of a person- especially because that person was her mother._

"_Say your good-byes now, I want you to stay in your room when the doctors come. It's not going to be pretty." Larry shook his head, looking older and more tired than usual. "She isn't going to go willingly." _

_Elle slunk out of the kitchen, her heart aching as she climbed the stairs. It scared her that they were going to take Peyton away. It scared her that things had gotten so bad in the first place that Peyton needed to be taken away. It scared her that she didn't know if Peyton was ever going to get well enough to come back home._

_Elle remembered the last time her mom had been in a mental hospital, over six years ago. It was so long ago...so many things had changed since then. Brooke had been there, and Peyton hadn't nearly been this bad. She had still been a person- talking and interacting with people. Now she was like an empty shell. A vegetable with occasional melt-downs. Even in the hospital, when Elle used to fear the once a week visits she made there with Brooke, her mother hadn't been this bad. Her depression had never been this bad.  
_

_Her mother's room was dark, as usual. It had been a few hours since anyone had come in to check on her. Elle slowly stepped through the doorway, reached to her left, and turned the switch of a small lamp on Peyton's dresser. The large room was instantly lit with the lamp's dim, feeble light. Elle saw Peyton lying on the far side of her bed, her body facing the wall. Elle inched farther into the room, not wanting to anger her mother by waking her too abruptly. _

"_Mom?" she whispered, gingerly climbing onto Peyton's bed. "Mom?"_

_Peyton said nothing. _

"_Mommy, please, please don't be mad at me," Elle gently brushing a hand over her mother's curls, "We want to help you,"_

_Peyton said nothing. _

"_Mom," Elle tapped Peyton's shoulder, speaking louder now. "Mom!"_

_Peyton said nothing. Elle, concerned, placed both hands on Peyton's shoulder, shaking her several times. "Mom! Mom!" _

_Elle rolled Peyton onto her back, fear swelling in her chest. Peyton's eyes were closed, she looked almost…peaceful. It was only then that Elle saw the empty bottle of pills lying next to the pillow. That fear in her chest erupted into full-blown panic as she kneeled over Peyton on the bed, her arms trembling furiously. _

"_MOM!" Elle screamed, shaking her mother violently. "MOM! MOM!" _

_Peyton said nothing. _

_But Elle kept screaming. She kept screaming as Larry burst through the door, she kept screaming as he hastily dialed 911. She kept screaming as he ran out, she kept screaming as a neighbor entered the bedroom, climbing onto the bed next to Elle. She kept screaming as she watched him perform CPR. She kept screaming until a pair of strong arms pulled her out of the bed and placed her in the chair in the corner of the room. _

_Then she was silent. Silent as she watched the doctors and EMTs swarm into the room, silent as she saw Grandpa Larry fall to his knees and sob into the carpet, silent as they put her mother into a bag, on a stretcher, and took her away. _

Now

She woke up with a loud cry; shooting up in bed, gasping and spluttering. What was happening? Why couldn't she catch her breath? Why was her heart racing so fast? Was she having a heart attack?

Elle continued to gasp for breath as she clutched a hand to her chest. Her chest _did _hurt, but it wasn't her heart necessarily, it was more of an intense tightness that wouldn't go away, constricting every vital organ in her body.

What was happening to her? She whimpered slightly as she continued to draw deep, ragged breaths. The tightness in her chest was almost unbearable. Why couldn't she calm down? Elle could _always _force herself to calm down. The mere fact that she could not, at this very moment, only made her feel even more panicked.

It was only seconds before Brooke burst through the door, obviously having heard the shout Elle had emitted when she awoke. Brooke rushed over to the bed, seating herself in front of Elle.

"Elle, Elle, honey, what is it?" Brooke placed her hands on Elle's shoulders.

But Elle couldn't answer her. She couldn't even speak. She couldn't breathe- all she could do was continue to draw deep, shaky breaths. What was wrong with her?

"Elle," Brooke said again, "Please tell me what's wrong, you're scaring me,"

Before she could collect herself, before she could calm down, Elle opened her mouth, the words pouring out faster than she could control.

"I'm the one who found her," Elle said, her voice trembling horribly, "When my mom died, I was the one who found her,"

"_What?_" Brooke gasped, "Oh, sweetheart-,"

"I went in to talk to her, because we had a fight. But she was still and cold, and then they took her away." Elle's body released a tremor that shook her entire torso.

It was as though someone was holding down a button in her brain, forcing her to babble on, even though her mind was trying desperately to gain control of her emotions. She did not know why she kept talking, why she couldn't take a moment and collect herself before she lost it, right here in front of Brooke.

"And Grandpa, I was yelling at him, saying terrible, awful things to him! And he had a heart attack right there!" Her voice broke, as she felt Brooke's fingers press a little harder into her arms, "The doctors told me that it was stress induced, he died because of stress, and _I_ was his stress."

"Elle, that was _not _your fault-," Brooke said, but Elle did not stop speaking. She couldn't stop speaking. Her limbs were shaking and all she wanted to do was scream at the top of her lungs.

"I'm always trying so hard to be strong, and to be happy! Because if I'm not sad, that means I'm nothing like her." Tears were pooling in her eyes faster than she could even realize what was happening. Her voice was beginning to grow more and more strained, and her throat burned like fire. Brooke was watching her, with her mouth slightly open, as though trying to absorb all of the emotion that was pouring uncontrollably out of Elle's heart.

"I couldn't ever be sad, my whole life. I had to be happy for Grandpa; I had to be happy for mom. For me." Elle was crying now, tears raining down her flushed cheeks, "But I can't do it, I can't be strong anymore, because my chest feels like it's going to explode, and my heart weighs a hundred pounds. I feel so guilty and horrible; I thought that coming here would take the pain away."

She felt Brooke begin to rub her palms up and down her arms, as though trying to soothe her. Elle looked down at the sheets. She was painfully ashamed, uncomfortably vulnerable, but she could not stem the flow of her tears. All those years of perfect control, all those years of building up the strength of her will, suddenly felt like trying to lift a bowling ball with a toothpick. It was nothing compared to the strength of the pain in her heart.

"All I did was run away, and everything's just a huge mess now. And I know it's not right to resent her for everything bad in my life, I know that, but I can't help it." She looked back up at Brooke, who had tears in her eyes as well, "Everything bad that's ever happened to me is a direct result of all of the things my mother screwed up. _Why_ did she have to die?"

And then she broke; crying so hard that her chest was visibly heaving. Elle collapsed into her own lap, deep, heavy sobs racking her whole body. She couldn't stop. She couldn't even speak anymore. All she could do was cry. Brooke's hands were on her back, worried and comforting. She could faintly hear Brooke whispering consoling words to her, but she was not listening. She just cried.

This intense wave of anguish was suddenly met with that all too familiar feeling of resentment towards her mother; but it was different this time- this time it was stronger, amplified to a magnitude that she could barely even fathom.

"WHY did she have to die?!" Elle exploded, sitting up again, tears still streaming down her face, "_Why _did she do that? And why did you leave? Why did you leave us and never come back? Why didn't you try harder?"

"I did try, sweetheart, but your mom-," Brooke's voice was cracking now.

"But I was _ALWAYS_ trying!" Elle's body shook with another wave of angry sobs, "But it didn't matter to her! She didn't care about us, and she killed herself! _Why _did she do that?! Why didn't she love me enough to stay alive?"

"She did love you! Your mom was sick. She wasn't well, and there wasn't anything you could have done to make her better." Brooke said sternly, despite the thick, salty tears pouring out of her eyes, "But she loved you, Anna-Elizabeth Sawyer; she loved you with _all_ of her heart. Don't you _dare_ ever think differently, do you understand me?"

Elle bowed her head and let out a tiny cry before she felt Brooke pull her into her arms. Elle clung to her fiercely, as her whole body continued to tremble. She heard Brooke's sobs mixing with her own; a painful duet echoing in the dark room.

But despite the anguish seeping out of every inch of her soul, Elle felt strangely safe, protected, sitting here in Brooke's arms- for the first time in her life she did not have to worry about being strong for anyone else. She could just cry, just cry, and grieve and let someone hold her. It was the kind of motherly attention she had never stopped craving, to be hugged the way Brooke was hugging her now. This was how a mother hugged their child.

Everyone looses control of themselves at one time or another, no matter the strength of their will. Sometimes, things get so bad that there is nothing left to do but lose control.

But on occasion, losing control is the first step to regaining so much more.

And Elle realized, as she buried her head in the crook of Brooke's neck, that the intense, unbearable pain in her chest was gone.

* * *

**Disclaimer: As already stated in chapter 3, suicide is never something anyone should take lightly, even if they are just including it in a fictional story. It is truly a tragedy how often we come across suicide in fiction- whether it be in a book, something on TV, a movie, etc- and just shake it off, because it is something so familiar that we've read/seen/heard about before; like so many other violent themes and concepts just thrown haphazardly into fiction. A lot of people don't realize how much a suicidal message/reference can impact or even influence someone who is already dealing with such feelings. **

**So if you have been effected by the suicidal content in this chapter, or have already been dealing with the confusion and pain of experiencing suicidal feelings, I urge you to please take care of yourself, get yourself helped, by speaking to someone you trust, or even just calling a ****suicide hotline in your local area. **

**You can even PM me, I am more than willing to listen to anyone who needs someone to talk to. Suicide is never the answer. Please remember, there is _always _hope, and you are not alone.  
**

* * *

**On a happier note, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Emotion is a tricky thing to convey, especially grief. I hope I have done it some justice :) **

**Next chapter will be centered around Lucas- so if you were feeling like his reaction was lacking something in this chapter, never fear! We will definitely be experiencing his feelings in the next chapter :) **

**And please leave a review! I would love to hear feedback on how you think everything went down during this chapter, what you liked, what you didn't, etc. :) **

**And questions or concerns? Don't hesitate to ask! :) Please take care, everyone! **

**Love, Brennan**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you all so much for the WONDERFUL feedback for my last chapter! I was completely taken aback by all of you who took the initiative to leave me a review :) **

**So this chapter backtracks slightly, to when Lucas sees Elle in the kitchen for the first time. A lot of the dialogue from that scene is used over again, just from a different POV. :) Resort back to the last chapter if you're confused, but I tried to make it as easy to understand as I could. Enjoy :)**

* * *

He stared at a carbon-copy of her, the woman he had left in LA over eighteen years ago, the woman whose tragic ending had rocked Tree Hill to its core.

"You're Peyton Sawyer's daughter?" He asked, looking at the girl standing before him, wonderment and shock echoing in his voice.

"Y-Yes," she stammered, her thin limbs all tense.

This couldn't be possible, this couldn't be real! How could he not have known that Peyton Sawyer had a _daughter? _A very grown up daughter at that; this girl looked older than Grace…which means she was born before Lucas and Lindsey had a child together. But nobody had _ever _mentioned Peyton having a daughter. He hadn't even _heard _from Peyton in over…

"How old are you?" he asked her, as his head continued to spin.

"Lucas, stop…," he heard Brooke say, but he couldn't look at anyone but Elle.

"How old are you?" Lucas asked again.

"Eighteen," she whispered.

"Oh my god," Lucas breathed. It couldn't be possible. It just…_couldn't _be possible. Peyton was dead. Her memory had long been pushed out of his mind. After years of blocking her out, after years of learning to live in a world in which she no longer existed, after eighteen years…_Eighteen. _ It had been eighteen years since… "Oh, god,"

This girl had her mother's features, her mannerisms. She could have passed as Peyton's twin, even. Her hair, her legs, her arms, nose, cheeks…it _was _Peyton. It was like staring the past right in the face. But it couldn't be…

It was only then that he noticed his own brooding blue eyes looking back at him.

"Are you mine?" Lucas asked of Elle, "Are you?!"

He was freaking out. He was literally freaking out, so much so that he couldn't even control the tone of his voice, which was loud, panicked and accusatory. What the _hell _was going on?! Who was this girl?! _Why _had he never heard of her before?!

Elle, who must have been startled by his tone, looked wildly around before stammering, "I…Uh, I, I'm going to go upstairs,"

Lucas could have screamed at the top of his lungs as Elle Sawyer fled from the kitchen, everyone watching her retreating form, leaving an extremely tense silence lingering in the air.

What the hell was going on?! Why were they all acting so secretive?! Why couldn't they just answer his damn question??!?

"Brooke! Is she mine?" Lucas asked urgently, breaking the silence with his loud voice.

"Lucas…," Brooke whispered, her shoulders hunching slightly.

"Answer me!" Lucas demanded, "Is that girl my child?"

"Yes."

It took every ounce of strength he possessed not to collapse right there in Brooke's kitchen. He had another child?! He had a child with _Peyton?! _How was this possible?! Why hadn't Peyton ever told him? Why hadn't _Brooke, _who had been living in the same damn town, who he considered one of his BEST friends, ever told him? Why hadn't Elle ever tried to contact him before this?!

He grabbed the marble counter top for support as Brooke quickly explained how Peyton never wanted Elle to know Tree Hill, how Brooke promised to help Peyton fulfill this desire, how Elle showed up on Brooke's doorstep almost a month ago.

A _month? _She had been here for almost an entire _month _without anyone informing him?!

What the hell!? What the hell was wrong with everyone?! WHY hadn't anyone TOLD him any of this before now?!

"I'll be right back." He faintly heard Brooke say, before disappearing into the hall, "I am so, so sorry."

He could barely breathe.

Lindsey, who had a hand over her mouth, met his eyes, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Did that really just happen?" he heard Grace say from somewhere behind him.

Grace. Grace was his daughter, his daughter whom he had known and loved for her entire life. He had helped create her, had seen her birth, watched her grow. He knew everything about Grace.

But he had another daughter, another daughter whom he had never met, had never spoken to or even _heard _of. She had been alive and existing in this world for over eighteen years. How the _hell _was that possible?! How could his daughter just _exist, _without him ever knowing about it? How did he not know that there was another part of him somewhere out there all this time?

He was sweating. The room was suddenly very hot, and the walls were beginning to close in. Brooke's very large kitchen suddenly seemed so, painfully small.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't even think straight- so many thoughts were zooming around in his mind, as though his brain was a pinball machine. He didn't know what to do.

Before he realized what was he was doing, Lucas's legs began to move- out of the kitchen, through the hall, into the foyer and out the door. He heard the footsteps of Lindsey and Grace hastily following him, but he could not slow himself down.

"Lucas!" Lindsey called, as Lucas reached the car, his hands shaking violently, "Lucas, slow down!"

He looked up at his wife, suddenly annoyed with her for not letting him be. He did not want to be bothered, to be chased or followed. He just wanted to run, to run and keep running until someone could make sense of this.

"Lucas," She was at his side now, her hands on his shoulders, her voice filled with concern, "Let me drive,"

Normally, he would have protested, he would have shook it off and insisted that he was fine, but he couldn't. The shock of this news was overwhelming, almost crippling. He handed the keys to his wife, and climbed into the passenger's side without a word.

The ride home was silent.

Lindsey Scott had always been a nervous woman. She loved Lucas Scott with all of her heart; everything about this man was absolutely perfect. But there had always been a little inkling of jealousy in the pit of her stomach since the very first time she had edited his book, nearly eighteen years ago.

A tiny piece of her had never stopped being jealous of the beautiful, inspiring romance that she had read about in his book. The romance he had shared with another woman. She had never met Peyton, she had seen a few pictures, but she did not really know Peyton at all; not in the way all of her friends did.

But her life had been impacted by Peyton Sawyer. If Peyton and Lucas had never broken up, then she would not be where she is today; she would not have her perfect husband and beautiful daughter. If it wasn't for Peyton, then Lindsey would not be Lindsey Scott.

She used to constantly fear that one day he would meet her again; run into her or get a letter or a phone call…and immediately fall deeply, passionately in love with Peyton Sawyer all over again, then having to make the difficult choice between Lindsey Scott and "_It's you. The one I want standing next to me when my dreams come true. It's you." _

And every time she would play this scenario in her head, Lucas would always pick Peyton.

How was she supposed to compete with that? How could she compete with a romance great enough for a best-selling novel?

She had been constantly fearful that her husband was still in love with Peyton, despite the fact that they hadn't so much as spoken in years. On occasion, Lindsey would catch him gazing at an old photograph, or re-reading a passage in his book, and the look on his face could have made her cry; for it was a look of sorrow, reminiscence, and- dare she say it- maybe even…regret.

And that made Lindsey Scott very, very nervous.

Lindsey wasn't ever able to bring herself to ask Lucas if he was still in love with Peyton Sawyer, for she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

And then Peyton died.

Lucas scared her in the week after he was informed of her death. He was on edge, quiet and brooding, rarely retreating from his office. He was like that for almost a week. And then one day, he was fine. It was as though he had flipped a switch, eliminating Peyton from his life completely.

She had never caught him looking at memories of Peyton after she had died. It was almost like the memories of her had suddenly died as well. Peyton Sawyer had become something from a different lifetime that Lucas rarely spoke of anymore.

She looked at Lucas, who sat next to her in the car, his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of the seat. She heard a faint clicking noise coming from the back seat- Grace, texting away on her cell phone- probably dishing the juicy gossip to her teenage friends.

Lindsey glanced back at her husband, who still sat there with his eyes closed. But his mouth was moving, his lips forming silent words that she did not understand.

Slightly alarmed, Lindsey rested a hand on his knee.

"Lucas…," she said gently, as his eyes snapped open. For a moment, he looked as though he was about to speak, but as soon as their eyes met, he turned his head, closing his eyes again.

Lindsey gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Why couldn't he look at her? Was it because he was thinking of Peyton? Was he _still _in love with her, after all these years?

That old yet familiar feeling of jealousy and fear was slowly returning, a feeling that she thought she would never have to deal with again.

Lucas had another daughter. A daughter that he shared with Peyton Sawyer- a daughter that would forever link the two of them, even if one of them was dead.

Lucas jumped out of the car as soon as they had pulled into the garage, entering the house and closing the door before she had even emerged from the car.

She found him standing in the middle of the living room, looking confused and unsure about what to do.

"Lucas," Lindsey edged toward him, "Honey,"

"We shouldn't have gone over there." He said lowly, his eyes unfocused.

"Lucas-," she tried to speak, but he rounded on her, looking angrier than she had ever seen him.

"We shouldn't have even gone over there in the first place!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. She took a step back, shocked. Lucas rarely ever shouted at her. "You shouldn't have taken us there tonight!"

"Stop it!" Lindsey frowned, mustering up the courage to defend herself. "Now I get that you're confused and in shock, but _don't _you dare try to blame me for this, Lucas Scott."

"What the hell was Brooke thinking?" He continued, talking more to himself than anyone else, "What the _hell _made her think that she had any right keeping this from me?!"

He bowed his head and exhaled, as though taking a moment to collect himself. When he met Lindsey's eyes again, she saw a pain behind them that she hadn't seen since he had found out Peyton had died.

"How could she…," Lucas said quietly, sounding almost wounded, "How could she have kept this from me? After everything we had been through together. How could she have done that to me?"

At that moment, Lindsey knew that Lucas was no longer talking about Brooke. But he couldn't even mention her name; he was hurting so bad that he couldn't even bring himself to say her name.

"I need a beer," Lucas muttered, before turning and heading into the kitchen. Lindsey stood watching him for a moment, before an upbeat, sugary polyphonic ringtone made her wheel around.

Grace was standing just a few feet behind her, looking quite confused herself. Lindsey felt a pang of guilt; she had been so wrapped up in Lucas's feelings, she had forgotten about how Grace might have been feeling about the sudden news.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Lindsey asked her daughter, as Grace quickly finished typing a text message.

"I don't know…," Grace's eyebrows creased. "Not really,"

"I know it's hard seeing your dad this upset," Lindsey said, "It's just such a big shock to all of us."

"No, it's not that…it's…," Grace shifted on her feet, as her phone went off again. "It's…I like, met her before today. Elle."

"What? When?" Lindsey asked, her eyebrows rising.

"The day we got back. I had like,_ no_ idea that she dad's daughter, and I had no idea that she was my…half sister." Grace said, "I feel so guilty; I didn't know that Peyton Sawyer was her mother when I let her have a copy of dad's book,"

"You…what?" Lindsey shook her head slightly, still confused.

"She was working at Brooke's store and I like went in to see Brooke, but Brooke wasn't there," Grace sighed, "So I was like leaving Brooke a message at the counter, and I guess Elle like saw that I had put Dad's book on the counter or whatever, cause I had it with me when I went in there, and she started like asking me all these questions about it."

Lindsey listened intently, as her daughter rambled on, a guilty sadness etched on the fifteen-year-old's face.

"So I just like let her take it. She seemed so interested in it." Grace said, as her phone rang yet again, "But it all makes sense now, she was so curious about it because it was about her _parents._"

"I thought," Grace and Lindsey both turned, Lucas had emerged from the kitchen, a bottle in his hand, a crazed look in his eyes. "that I told you I didn't want you reading that book."

"Dad-," Grace began.

"No! I deliberately told you _not _to read it. I told you time and time again that it wasn't allowed! Lucas shouted, "You think that you can just shrug that off and do whatever the hell you want?! Do you think that my rules suddenly don't apply to you anymore?!"

"Lucas!" Lindsey cried, shocked at her husband's sudden outburst.

"And then you give that book to…to _her_?!" Lucas ignored Lindsey, as Grace's phone emitted another round of cheery beeps.

"I DIDN'T KNOW!" Grace cried, defensively, "I'm sorry!"

Grace was a confident, fiery, emotional girl, whose sometime drama-queen-like tendencies were only heightened because of her age. Grace's ability to not be intimidated during an argument was puzzling to Lindsey. Her extroverted, tell-it-like-it-is personality was not something that Grace had inherited from her mother.

"I mean, _how _was I supposed to know your old lover Peyton had a love child kept secret?" Grace continued, as Lucas glared back at her, "I was just as surprised as you, Dad!"

Lindsey watched this father and daughter face-off unfold right before her. She always hated this kind of conflict between family members; for the thing she feared the most was that her family would fall apart- how she used to fear that Lucas would one day return to Peyton.

"Don't you talk to me like that!" Lucas pointed a finger at his daughter, "And don't you _dare _talk about Peyton!"

"Why not!?" Grace fired back, "You never let me ask about her! I'm curious! I have questions! Is it any wonder I had to like resort to reading your book?!"

Grace's phone rang again. Lucas, fed up, snatched the pink cell phone right out of Grace's hand. "Can you just turn this damn thing off?!"

"Dad, what the heck?!" Grace cried, "You can't just like take my phone!"

"I sure as hell can!" Lucas said, "I can do a lot of things! I can _control _a lot of things! I can take my daughter's phone away if I want to!"

Lindsey closed her eyes. She knew, even if he didn't, that his current anger didn't have anything to do with Grace. Grace, however, gave a furious, indignant cry before stomping into her bedroom.

"THIS IS AFFECTING ME TOO, DAD!" She shouted, before slamming her door at them.

"Luke," Lindsey said gingerly, after a few moments of silence.

"I'm going for a drive," Lucas said gruffly, grabbing the keys Lindsey had set down on the coffee table.

"No, Lucas, stay here," Lindsey protested, moving towards him, "You're confused, and hurt and shocked, and I just think you need some time to sit and process this-,"

"I need some air," Lucas replied, stepping around her as he headed for the door.

"I don't want you doing anything rash, Luke!" Lindsey pleaded, following him, "Please!"

"I'm going for a drive, Lindsey," he said again, before stepping through the door and closing it in her face.

A sick, uneasy feeling settled deep in Lindsey's chest as she gazed out the window, watching helplessly as her husband drove away.

* * *

There was always one place he could go when he needed to clear his head; the one place in the world where he could be alone, without actually being utterly and completely alone.

He kneeled in the moist grass, downing the rest of his beer before casting it aside, breathing heavily.

"What do I do, Keith?" he said aloud, speaking to the headstone directly in front of him, "Where do I go from here?"

Grace's phone began to beep for the millionth time from inside his pocket. He had forgotten that he even had it with him. Lucas was ashamed for the way he had spoken to his family, for the way he had yelled at them. They were his girls, the two people in the world that he loved the most. He shouldn't have taken his anger out on them.

And then there was Elle. It had been strange for him, hearing Grace saying her name, as though voicing her name made her existence all the more real- even though he had seen her face not even two hours ago. How was that possible?

Lucas had another daughter, and her name was Elle.

"Why did she hide this from me?" He said, "Why didn't she ever tell me?"

Hurt and outrage pulsed through every single vein in his body. The mere fact that this girl was his daughter was shocking enough, but to know that this girl was a daughter that he had created with Peyton…was almost too much for Lucas to even handle.

She had lied to him. Sure they were broken up; sure she had turned down his proposal, but to keep this kind of information from him?! To keep something that was a part of him, a part of _them_, all to herself? To rob him of knowing his own child… "_Why _did she do that?"

And then she had killed herself, leaving this girl without a mother _or _a father. What the hell was she thinking? How had Peyton gotten so low to where she could take her own life and leave her _child _to pick up the pieces? What happened to the beautiful, courageous, brave, talented, _wonderful _person he had fallen in love with?

"What happened, Peyton?" Lucas ran a hand over his face, roughly. "What happened?"

The cemetery wasn't a very populated area at night. Lucas knew nobody would be around, he knew he was alone. He succumbed to the anguish eating away at his insides, letting the tears fall freely down his face.

"What do I do now?" he whispered, "What am I supposed to do now?"

He bowed his head and clutched the top of Keith's headstone. "Help me… please…_please…_,"

_Then_

"_Remember when your mom was in the hospital, and you asked me just to lie with you and heal you?" She asked him. _

"_Yeah," he smiled slightly. _

"_I think I could use some of that healing before tomorrow," she said, her eyes glinting. _

_Lucas laughed, as his stomach gave a jump. God, the way she looked at him sometimes… "I can do that," _

_She laughed as well, pulling him down into the backseat of her beloved Comet. _

_She was leaving tomorrow. After an intense couple of weeks, things had finally started to settle down. There had been a psycho-stalker on prom night, the birth of his baby sister; the birth of his nephew, his mother almost hadn't survived childbirth, graduation, and not to mention the discovery of a witness to Keith's death, ultimately leading him to the painful realization that his own father was a cold-blooded murderer. _

_And finally, things had started to settle down. But she was leaving tomorrow; going to Los Angeles with Brooke. Lucas couldn't imagine her living anywhere else but in Tree Hill, and the fact that she was leaving made him feel uneasy and unsettled all over again. _

_They lied there, in her car, for quite some time; the warm lakeside air brushing over their skin as he inhaled the sweet smell of her hair. _

"_Tomorrow is when everything changes," she said softly, "Tomorrow we have to grow up. I wish today would last forever. I wish I could spend the rest of my life right here in your arms." _

"_You are going to do amazing things, Peyton," Lucas said, "You don't have to be afraid to grow up." _

"_I don't want it all to change," She whispered, "I am so happy, so at peace, right here." _

"_Life is going to be amazing." Lucas said, "You are going to change people's lives with your gift for music. You are going to inspire lost souls with your art. You're going to get married, and have ten curly-haired, chicken-y legged babies." _

_Peyton laughed and hugged him tighter. "Ten, huh?" _

"_I was thinking Sawyer, for a boy," Lucas looked at her, "Sawyer Scott." _

"_Or Keith," she mused, as Lucas's eyes shone. "And Anna, for a girl. Or maybe Elizabeth."_

"_Or both," Lucas said. _

"_God, Luke, I hope that I grow up to be even half the woman my mother was." Peyton said, looking up at the sky. "Both of them."_

"_You don't need to worry about that, Peyton." He kissed her on the forehead. "You already are." _

_

* * *

_

**I feel like this was one of my more 'ehh...' chapters, but I hope you still enjoyed it nonetheless. **

**There's plenty more drama on the way, including more of Lucas's feelings as the reality of the situation continues to become more and more real to him. I decided to kind of string his feelings out over a couple of chapters, so prepare for more brooding, yah! He's still in shock, so bear with me, guys. :) **

**Any thoughts or predictions for what's yet to come? I'd love to hear them :)**** And please leave a review-, not that I've ever asked that of anyone before. HA. You all are so wonderful, I can't say that enough. :) Until next time, **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey everyone! :) **

** A little shout-out to Mia, an unsigned reader- your review absolutely warmed my heart. I am so humbled that you have taken something from this story, in a way where it helped you in your life. I strive, _dream_, to one day become something that is able to help and influence others, and to hear things like that, as a budding writer, is just such a blessing. thank you for the inspiration :) **

** And to everyone else, thank you all SOOO much for reviewing- my faithfuls and new readers. You all are so appreciated!!! :) **

**

* * *

  
**

Lindsey Scott had always been a nervous person.

With the memories of the previous evening playing through her head like a film stuck on repeat, she clutched her bag a little tighter against her shoulder as her heels clacked against the warm summer sidewalk.

Lucas had finally arrived home sometime around two in the morning, not acknowledging the fact that she had waited up for him, or telling her where he had gone. He didn't even come to bed. Lucas had gone straight into his office, closing the door without a word.

Why couldn't he talk to her about this? Lindsey always thought she and Lucas had excellent communication, even when something tough was going on. They had always been able to work through everything together. No matter how awkward, or difficult or painful a subject was, the one person she could always talk to about anything was him.

The only other time Lucas had clammed up like this was after Peyton Sawyer committed suicide.

He had sat in his office, not letting anybody in. He refused to talk to her about how he was feeling or what he was thinking. Lindsey feared that he would never come out of this Peyton-induced depression.

But he did, and then everything was fine. Everything was back to normal, with their normal problems and their normal discussions. Her fear of losing her husband to Peyton Sawyer had vanished, along with any mention or memory of Peyton in their lives.

Until yesterday. Everything was fine until yesterday.

Brooke's sudden announcement about Lucas's other daughter had completely uprooted any sense of calm and stability that Lindsey desperately relied on to keep herself and her family happy.

And that made Lindsey Scott very nervous.

Now Lucas was locked in his office, doing God only knows what; Grace was out with her friends, not wanting to be home; and Lindsey was determinately marching up the sidewalk, doing everything in her power to keep her family together. She wasn't going to let everything fall apart.

Lindsey had set out this morning, leaving Lucas in his dark office, to have a discussion with Brooke. The quick little explanation of the situation Brooke had given the previous night was _nowhere _near what Lindsey felt they had deserved. She was furious with Brooke. She wanted to make sure Brooke knew how much she had hurt her family.

But at the same time, Lindsey Scott was feeling very nervous. She couldn't help but think about what might have happened if Lucas had known about this girl from the get-go. Would Lucas have even given Lindsey a chance, or would he have just gone back to Peyton and his child?

She forced herself not to think about the answer to that question.

The bell on the door gave a cheerful tinkle as she entered Brooke's shop.

Lindsey's stomach gave a lurch when she saw that it was not Brooke who stood behind counter, but Elle. The girl who's sudden existence seemed to be the cause of all of this sudden uneasiness.

"Welcome to Clothes over Bros," Elle said, before glancing up, recognizing who stood before her. "Oh,"

Lindsey didn't really know what to say to this girl. She hadn't been expecting to see Elle here at all; and seeing her here in person again, standing there, made Lindsey all the more nervous.

"I was just looking for Brooke," Lindsey said awkwardly, glancing around the boutique.

"Brooke's, uh, actually on her way to your house." Elle said, biting her lip. "She was going to talk to Lucas."

"Oh," Lindsey said, hugging her purse to her side. She couldn't think of what to say to Elle. Actually, she could think of a million things to say to this girl, but voicing all of her questions and concerns was easier said than done.

But she couldn't just stand here and say…nothing. There had to be something she could say to break the ice or start some kind of conversation.

Taking a deep breath, Lindsey approached Elle at the counter, setting her purse down. "Well while I'm here, I guess we can get this over with,"

Elle frowned slightly, unsure of what Lindsey meant.

"I'm sorry if this little family reunion of yours isn't everything you expected it to be," Lindsey said, "But my husband is in an extremely dark place right now. He is not okay. I'm not saying that's your fault, but I want you to keep your distance until he's ready to see you."

Where did _that _come from? Lindsey frowned inwardly at herself. Saying something that waspish probably wasn't the best way to start a relationship with this girl.

"I wasn't going to-," Elle began, but Lindsey continued speaking, as though she had lost all self control of her vocal cords.

"He doesn't need any more stress than he's already under. I need to ask you not to force yourself into his life."

Lindsey didn't expect all of this to suddenly spill out of her mouth, like she was a jealous high school girl defending her boyfriend, but by the look on Elle's face; Lindsey knew that was exactly how she sounded.

Elle frowned, offended. "I'm not going to-,"

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to sound mean or get on your bad side," Lindsey continued, knowing that she was past the point of saving face, "I'm sure you're a very nice girl. I'm just looking out for my husband. I'm trying to do what's best for my family. Please understand that."

"Well, as of yesterday, I'm apparently pretty much a part of your family too." Elle raised an eyebrow, sass dancing in her blue eyes, "But I don't think I'm ready to call you _stepmommy_, so I need to ask you not to force yourself into my life."

Lindsey's mouth dropped open as Elle turned, making her way into the back room.

"_Please _understand that." the sarcasm was thick in Elle's tone as she disappeared around the corner, leaving a surprised Lindsey standing alone in the store.

She had certainly not expected any of this conversation to happen when she first stepped into Brooke's store. Shame settled in the pit of her stomach. She did not expect to say those rude and slightly defensive things to Elle- she did not know why she felt the need to suddenly defend herself and her family.

Lindsey couldn't possibly be feeling threatened by Elle…could she? Was that why she had so suddenly felt the need to mark her territory in front of an _eighteen _year old? Was Lindsey really threatened by the sudden existence of Elle Sawyer in her husband's life, scared that this girl could be the thing that changes her picture perfect family completely?

The answer was yes.

And that made Lindsey Scott very, very nervous.

* * *

Brooke Davis-Baker had always been a nervous person.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go in with you?" he asked.

Brooke looked over at her husband, smiling bravely. "I'm sure. I screwed this up, now I need to make it right."

Julian looked at her warily, but nodded. "I'll be right here if you need me."

Brooke smiled and kissed his cheek before climbing out of the passenger's seat of their car.

She stared at the house, the house she had known since she was sixteen. With its inviting front porch and immense history, this was the house Lucas Scott had resided in for his entire life, the house where Brooke had spent many, many nights once upon a time. Brooke could recall that the black door around the side had once been painted red.

After everything they had all been through, everything that had happened between the nights Brooke used to sleep behind the red door and now, this house had always been the same. It had the same shingles, the same porch furniture, and the same smell. It was probably the only thing that stayed the same.

She slowly walked up to the porch, feeling Julian watching her from the car. She didn't really know what she was going to say to Lucas when she would speak to him, but after everything that had happened the night before, she had to say _something. _ Lucas had left before she had a chance to go back downstairs and explain herself.

And after everything that had happened with Elle last night, after seeing how broken the girl really was, Brooke was desperate to try and undo the horrible mistake she had helped Peyton make over eighteen years ago.

She rang the doorbell, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet. After no answer, she tried again. Were they avoiding her? Were they really so angered by the news that they now refused to even speak to her?

That made Brooke Davis-Baker very nervous.

She rang the bell one more time. Nobody answered. Maybe they weren't mad…maybe they just weren't home. That had to be it.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Brooke reached for the knob, and felt a jolt in her chest when she realized that the door was unlocked. Stepping inside, Brooke looked around the familiar room, breathing in the familiar smell of Lucas's house. The blinds were drawn, and the house was quiet.

"Hello…?" Brooke called out, stepping further into the room, "Lucas?"

Nobody answered, and Brooke slowly made her way into the kitchen. Bags full of Jamaican souvenirs sat atop the kitchen table.

"Lucas?" She called again, "Lindsey? Grace? Anybody home?"

Just as Brooke was about to retreat back to the car, the slow creak of a door opening made her stop in her tracks. She wheeled around, just in time to see Lucas emerging from his office. He looked tragic, almost broken, his hair a mess, his eyes sporting enormous, swollen bags, and wearing the same clothes she had seen him in the night before.

"Lucas," she breathed.

"What are you doing here, Brooke?" he asked lowly, his voice gruff and strange.

"I was hoping we could talk," Brooke said softly, unnerved by his current state.

"About what?" Lucas scoffed, "About how you kept my daughter from me? About how you helped _her _hide my daughter from me for eighteen years?"

"Yes," Brooke whispered, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Well I don't want to hear it!" Lucas growled. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say. Just get the hell out of my house."

"Lucas, please…," Brooke pleaded.

"NO BROOKE!" Lucas shouted, taking a step toward her, "NO! I CAN'T FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS! DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU MADE ME DO?"

She took a step backward. Lucas had never shouted at her like this. This wasn't how their conversation was supposed to go.

And that made Brooke Davis-Baker very, very nervous.

"YOU MADE ME NEGLECT MY CHILD! YOU MADE ME DAN! I'M DAN BECAUSE OF YOU!" Lucas pointed at himself, pressing a finger into his chest in unison with every word.

"No you're not!" Brooke cried, "You didn't know! This is not your fault!"

"BUT YOU KNEW!" Lucas was still yelling. "YOU KNEW, AND YOU LET THIS ALL HAPPEN! WHY DID SHE DO THAT TO ME, BROOKE?! WHY DID SHE DO THAT?"

"Lucas, stop it!" Brooke cried, frantically waving her arms, "Just listen to me!"

"What can you possibly say?" Though no longer shouting, the tone in Lucas's voice was still incredulous and infuriated. "What can you possibly say to make this better?"

"I can't say anything in defense about what I've done, or what Peyton did, other than I am so, so sorry." Brooke said, meekly, "We did a terrible, horrible awful thing, and I can't take that back or make it better."

Lucas snorted.

"But I can say," Brooke kept speaking, her voice growing more confident, "that this girl is amazing. She is smart, and beautiful and strong. She's your _daughter, _Lucas, and I know you will love her just as much as you would have if you had been in her life all these years."

Lucas was listening to her with his mouth slightly open, as though trying to interrupt her, but not being able to find the words.

"And you are _not_ Dan." Brooke continued, "Dan wouldn't have cared. But I know that you do, and I know that even if you can't forgive me, you can forgive Peyton. Because no matter how much you try to bury it and forget about her, I know that you never stopped loving her. And as long as you love her, the pain and regret of losing her isn't going to go away. I'd know. I'm the same way."

She trailed off for a moment, taking a deep, quivering breath. Brooke saw sadness and confusion flash in Lucas's eyes as she pressed on, speaking as passionately as possibly could, her voice strained with emotion.

"She's a piece of Peyton that you get back, Luke, a piece of yourself that died along with Peyton. You can get that back. Elle can heal you, and you can heal her. You can heal each other, and have a beautiful relationship with this girl who is dying for a parent to love her. You can do that. I can't say anything to make this better, Lucas, but _you _can."

Lucas stared at her, speechless, as emotion pooled in his eyes. Brooke apologized once more, before turning and exiting the house.

"Are you okay?" Julian asked, concerned, as Brooke climbed into the car.

"Yeah," Brooke said, fastening her seatbelt and exhaling deeply.

"No you're not, you're crying." Julian sounded alarmed as he placed a hand on her knee.

She touched a hand to her wet cheek, feeling the tears slide down her face. Brooke hadn't even realized that she was crying. Overcome with an emotion that she couldn't understand, Brooke clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling the sobs that suddenly began to erupt out of her throat.

"Whoa, hey," Julian leaned over the arm rests, folding his arms around his wife. But as suddenly as her cries had begun, they just as suddenly stopped. Brooke pulled away from him, wiping her eyes with her perfectly manicured fingers.

"You're right," She said, with a small laugh, "I_ am_ crying."

Julian looked at her strangely, and Brooke laughed again, as she realized that the intense wave of emotion she had been hit with was…_relief_. It had been so strong that she didn't know how to process it. After all those years of anxiety and pain, relief was almost a foreign language to her.

"But I'm okay," Brooke said, "Everything is out now. Everyone knows. Now all everyone needs to do is heal. I haven't felt this relieved in years."

* * *

Elle Sawyer had always been a nervous person.

"Dude, I can't believe you bitched out Lindsey," Matt laughed, "I wish I had been there to see it."

"I didn't really _bitch her out_," Elle shrugged, "She pissed me off and I just snapped at her a little."

"Still," Matt said, as he dribbled his basketball against the concrete. "It's Lindsey. It's friggin hilarious."

"Do you not like her or something?" Elle asked, intrigued. She didn't know if she liked or disliked Lindsey Scott. Lindsey seemed protective, like she genuinely cared about her family, and Elle couldn't help but respect that. But there was something about her that just seemed so…unfriendly.

And that made Elle Sawyer very nervous.

"It's not that I don't like her," Matt replied, as he continued to dribble, jogging in a small circle around the rivercourt. "Because I do. She's really nice."

"Then why's it hilarious?" Elle raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know," Matt said, "Lindsey's so…jittery, I guess. She's really paranoid and protective of Grace. She seems on edge all the time, like she's constantly waiting for something bad to happen. Like a queen who's terrified that she could be overthrown by her kingdom at any second."

"I guess I can see that." Elle nodded.

"It's funny because nobody ever messes with Lindsey. Like, she can barely take a joke. Everyone always dances around her feelings, because she's upset so easily." Matt said, "I just wish I got to see her face when you told her off."

Elle shifted on her feet. She could relate to being jittery and on edge all the time- Elle had felt the exact way that Matt had just described Lindsey during the last few months Peyton was alive. Elle constantly feared that something bad was going to happen, that things were going to fall apart. And they had.

"I didn't tell her off, either." Elle said, in her own defense. "She was just belittling me, and I got irritated and a little quippy. I'm sure I didn't upset her."

Elle exhaled slowly, the warm, late-afternoon wind blowing through her curls. She didn't like upsetting people. Conflict was something she tried to avoid at all costs, something she had been wired to avoid ever since she was a young child. Elle learned early in life that it was better to just swallow her pride instead of arguing back, usually further upsetting her mother.

But Lindsey wasn't manic depressive, or mentally unstable. She should be able to handle a little teenage wit. Elle hated the fact that she felt slightly bad for what she had said to Lindsey. Lindsey was the one who had instigated the whole thing anyway; she basically walked in and began attacking her. Lindsey really had some nerve, treating Elle like she had purposefully decided to introduce herself to Lucas last night. Elle was just standing her ground.

She didn't know whether to dislike Lindsey Scott or not.

And that made Elle Sawyer very, very nervous.

She leaned against the large metal pole of the basketball hoop, watching Matt dribble his way up the rivercourt, closer and closer toward her. He made to toss the orange basketball her way, but Elle folded her arms.

"C'mon," Matt laughed, holding the ball out to her, "Just one shot?"

"I thought," she raised an eyebrow at him, "after all the times we've been up here, you'd already know the answer to that question."

"Just one, Elle, come on," Matt grinned.

"I've never made a basket in my life. We gave up on this and moved on, remember?" She said, "I refuse to continue making an idiot out of myself with that damn basketball."

Matt laughed again. "Nobody's even around. What are you so scared of?"

"I'm not _scared_." Elle scoffed.

"Then shoot." Matt held the ball out to her again. "Just one little, tiny free throw. Please? For me?"

"Maa-att," Elle groaned, scrunching her face. Matt grinned his sideways grin at her. Elle huffed and rolled her eyes, taking the basketball out of his hands. "_Fine."_

"Thank you," Matt smiled, satisfied.

Elle dragged her feet as she walked to the line, running her thumbs along the bumps on the basketball.

"You just gonna stand there all day?" Matt said, as Elle looked up at the hoop.

"Maybe." Elle replied.

"Dude, just do it." Matt said, "Nobody's here to laugh at you but me."

"Hey!" Elle cried, "Come on,"

"You come on!" Matt laughed. "Shoot the damn basket, Elle!"

Elle raised her arms, propelling the basketball toward the hoop with all of her might. The shot soared over the basket, landing far off in the grass. Elle sighed and looked at Matt, who was holding back a laugh.

"Nice shot,"

Matt and Elle looked up as Nathan Scott made his way up the hill, followed by a blonde haired guy who didn't look much older than her and Matt. Nathan bent over, picking the orange basketball up out of the grass, making his way over to them.

Elle glowered at Matt, who couldn't help but laugh at the fact that someone _had _seen Elle take that ridiculously terrible shot after all.

"Not funny," she muttered to him, as Matt nudged her playfully.

"Hey guys," Nathan said, tossing the ball to Matt.

"Hey Nate," Matt said, "Hey Jamie!"

"I've been trying to shoot hoops with you all month, dude!" Jamie clapped Matt on the back, "Where have you been, man?"

"Elle, this is my son, Jamie," Nathan said to Elle, who was eyeing Jamie curiously. He looked an awful lot like Lucas. "He's a sophomore at Stanford,"

"Hey," Elle said, smiling shyly at him. She hadn't really thought about it until now, but Nathan was actually her biological uncle. She didn't even know she had any uncles or aunts or cousins, for both her mother and stepfather had been only children. Jamie, the boy Nathan had just introduced her to, was her cousin.

"Jamie, this is Elle," Nathan said slowly, "She's from California."

"Nice to meet you," Jamie smiled at her and took her hand.

Elle didn't know if Jamie knew about who she was or not. But he wasn't saying anything about it, so she sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up.

"We were gonna play a little one-on-one," Jamie said to Matt, "Wanna join us?"

"Why don't you two go ahead," Nathan said to Matt and Jamie, "One-on-one doesn't work with three people."

"You sure, dad?" Jamie asked, as Nathan nodded.

"Unless Elle wants to play, it could be two-on-two," Matt smirked.

"I think I'm gonna sit this one out, _thanks_ Matt." Elle rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling about the fact that he was teasing her.

"Yeah, I'll chill out too," Nathan shrugged, smiling at Elle. "You guys go ahead."

Matt and Jamie took off up the court, immediately jumping in to what looked like a very heated game of basketball. Elle shifted awkwardly on her feet, wondering if Nathan knew about what had happened the night before in Brooke's kitchen.

Nathan stood next to Elle for a moment before speaking. "So, how you holding up, kid?"

"What do you mean?" Elle asked him.

"Haley got a very frantic phone call from Lindsey Scott last night." Nathan smiled sadly, "Cat's out of the bag."

That answered her question.

"Yeah, it is…," Elle said quietly, her eyes fixed on Jamie and Matt, who were still playing on the far side of the court. "It's all out in the open now."

"But how are _you?_" Nathan asked again, "I'm sure you're still reeling from all this. We all are."

"I think I'm okay," Elle shrugged. The truth was, however, that she didn't know if she was okay or not. After her emotional breakdown in front of Brooke, Elle did feel better, but she wasn't _okay._ There was no longer that constant weight in her chest, but that uneasy, sad feeling in her heart was still there. "It's all just a lot to absorb, you know?"

"Definitely." Nathan said. "And I know that your first impression of Lucas probably wasn't the best…but he's really a great person, Elle."

"You sound like Brooke." Elle said, smiling slightly.

"When Jamie was a baby, Lucas used to watch him a lot." Nathan mused, "And he was _so _good with him. It used to kind of piss me off, actually. But I knew Luke was going to be an awesome dad."

"I'm sure he is." Elle replied, not really knowing what else to say. She knew that Lucas was a good person. And before she met him last night, she had all these fantasies in her head of what would happen when he finally found out about her.

Not that she had expected him to immediately gather her in his arms, saying "_There was always a piece of me that's been missing, and now I know that it's from not having you in my life," _or anything, but she was slightly disappointed. Sure he might have been shocked, but he had looked at her in a way she had never been looked at before, as though her very existence was causing him physical pain, and she didn't know how to feel about that.

"Look, I grew up resenting both of my parents." Nathan looked at her. She saw that he had the same blue eyes as his brother… the same blue eyes as her. "I know how it feels to be completely ashamed and angry and hurt by something they've done, how awful it is to wake up every day and realize that your parent had done something so selfish and horrible without even considering the effects it would have on their child."

Elle looked at her feet. "Brooke keeps telling me what an amazing person my mom was, and how much she loved me. And a part of me believes it, it does, but I still can't bring myself to get over what she did. I can't find it in my heart to forgive her."

"And you may never will. But don't let it define the rest of your life. You've got to somehow get past all of the resentment, all of the regret. My mom was a drug addict, and my dad's a murderer." Nathan laughed in spite of himself, "And even though they're not dead, they have both done horribly selfish things without considering me at all. I loved Peyton; she was one of my closest friends, and I'll always remember her as the amazing person she was before she got sick. But I can relate to you, I understand your pain. I know how hard it is to forgive the ones who let you down the most."

She looked at him, realizing that he had probably been waiting to tell her this from the moment they had met at Julian and Brooke's barbeque. Elle felt a rush of gratitude toward this man. Everyone had always told her how amazing Peyton was, how much Peyton had loved her, how Peyton was _sick. _Nobody really ever acknowledged that none of those things mattered to Elle; that every time Elle heard someone say how great Peyton had once been, the resentment toward Peyton was only amplified- for Elle was disappointed that these people had known that version of Peyton, and she had not. Nobody ever seemed to notice how hard it was for her to see past this resentment and regret. All they ever said was _"Your mom was amazing. Your mom loved you, but she was sick_."

"Thank you, Nathan." Elle said softly. "Really."

Nathan smiled at her. "But I think that Lucas can help you get past it all. He's really weird like that; he can make sense of things like this. He's just as shocked as the rest of us, but he's one of the more level-headed people I know. And if anyone can relate to you about a parent choosing to abandon them, it's Lucas."

Elle had read about Lucas's father in his book. The guy sounded like the world's biggest prick, but Elle hadn't really thought about how similar Lucas's feelings for his father were to her own feelings about Peyton. Maybe she was more like her father than she knew.

Jamie and Matt's game wrapped up just before dark. After bidding them good-bye, Nathan and Jamie had left, leaving Matt and Elle alone at the rivercourt once again.

"So, Elle-," Matt began, as Elle cut him off.

"There's no way I'm shooting another basket." She grinned playfully.

Matt laughed. "I wasn't going to ask you to shoot another basket. I never really got to talk to you about last night…you were at work all morning and then we came straight here. I want to make sure you're doing okay."

Elle chewed on her lip. There was something about the way Matt could instantly change the mood of a conversation that never failed to make her slightly nervous.

"I'm okay." She said, "Still like, shocked…but I think I'm okay. I mean, I know Lucas wasn't expecting to run into his long lost daughter when he dropped by last night."

"No, I know…," Matt said, "I mean, last night, like, after all of that. Last night with Brooke."

"You heard all of that?" Shame burned under her skin as she averted his eyes, a hot blush flooding her cheeks. She hadn't realized that she had been so loud, that there were others in the house who had been awoken by her uncontrollable sobbing. It was bad enough that she had broken down in front of Brooke, but to find out that Matt had been listening was completely mortifying.

"Yeah," Matt said, as Elle continued to avoid his gaze, "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, but you sounded really upset. I was worried about you."

"I had a lot on my mind." Elle said, hanging her head, "I didn't mean to lose control like that."

"Hey, don't be embarrassed," He placed his hands on her upper arms, rubbing them slightly. "There's no shame in grieving."

She looked back up at him, her face still flushed. Matt was looking at her with the same expression Brooke had looked at her with last night.

"You know you don't have to put up fronts when you're with me. It's okay to let me in." He said softly. "I care about you."

She was so grateful for Matt Baker at that very moment. The tone in his voice sounded so pure, so genuine, that Elle didn't know what else to do but pull him into a hug, her body language communicating everything she could not voice aloud. She hugged him tighter as she felt his arms wrap around her as well.

"Thank you," she whispered into his chest.

They made to break apart, but Matt suddenly had his hand on her cheek, looking at her in a way she had never been looked at in her entire life. His thumb brushed against her skin, as her heart began to thump so loudly she was sure he could hear it too.

She knew what was coming, but it didn't make her any less anxious. She had done this before, many times, but Elle knew that it would be different with Matt. She trusted him, more than she had ever trusted any of her peers in her entire life. Things would be different this time.

But somehow, that was okay. That temporary anxiety evaporated as she looked back at him, her eyes meeting his. She thought back to the night they spent sitting outside of that run-down bar, how badly she had wanted to do just what they were about to do now. She was scared then, but she wasn't scared anymore.

Matt was hesitating, his eyes still locked with hers.

"You just gonna stand there all day?" Elle said softly.

"Maybe." Matt replied, a small smile playing his lips

"_Dude_, just do it." Elle whispered, moving closer, "Nobody's here to laugh at you but me."

He pulled her face toward his own, their lips meeting, first gently, hesitantly, and deepening with a passion that Elle had never felt in other kiss she had ever received. He cradled the back of her head with one hand, the other still holding her against him on her lower back.

There was an explosion of excitement in Elle's chest as they stood there, their faces joined together, their mouths moving inside one another's. She hadn't ever enjoyed a kiss this much. Maybe that was because she was kissing someone she actually had feelings for, rather than just kissing for the mere physical excitement of doing so. But whatever the cause may have been, Elle knew that this kiss was probably the best she had ever had.

His teeth caught her bottom lip, and she inhaled slightly, pressing herself even tighter against him. His mouth tasted sweet, like the watermelon gum he had been chewing earlier that afternoon.

There was no groping, no hands sneaking under clothes; it was simply a kiss- a kiss that neither of them seemed to want to ruin with making it anything more than it was at that very moment: A simple, blissful, passionate kiss.

Yes, Elle Sawyer had always been a nervous person.

But at that very moment, she wasn't nervous at all.

* * *

**Matt and Elle: extra cheese! I really couldn't help myself, there's been so much angst going on lately that I felt my characters really deserved a little fluff. Of course, that doesn't mean that there isn't more drama on the way! **

**So what did you think? The chapter had three very different scenes going on, but it sort of showed how everyone was acting in the aftermath of the big reveal. Did you like their reactions? Elle? Brooke? Lucas? ****Lindsey? ****Hmm, please let me know!!! :) Thanks, everyone!  
**

**Love, Brennan  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**First of all, I need to apologize for the delay- life gets hectic sometimes! I'm sorry, everyone! **

**But what I really wanted to say was that I was absolutely floored by the feedback that I received from my last update. Wow, I read so many passionate, heartfelt reviews that all nearly moved me to tears! Many of you thanked me for the way I've been portraying the issues in this story, and shared your own stories of strength- and that just absolutely overwhelmed me with admiration toward all of you. To know that I'm connecting with others through the words written from my heart is so incredibly inspiring, and I honestly couldn't ask for more. I am so grateful.  
**

**I feel so blessed to have such an incredible support system of reviewers, and you all have truly, genuinely touched my heart. Thank you all so much! **

* * *

People often do things that are very surprising to others. Whether it is a shocking action or an unexpected sentence, we can always count on being shocked and surprised by the things people do and say.

The biggest shock, however, is when it is coming from the one person we thought we knew best.

It's part of the excitement of life, whether it be taken as a blessing or a curse. Some may see it as interesting, intriguing, to have new insight about someone so close to them. Others, however, may become uneasy, uncomfortable, put off by the fact that someone they thought they knew everything about could surprise them in such a way.

Haley James-Scott had known Lucas Scott for most of her life. As childhood friends, they had shared everything from secrets to popsicles, before growing up into a pair of perceptive and introverted adolescents, who had been thrown into the unfamiliar world of popularity and fame. Their hearts had broken, their hearts had loved, and their dreams had been shattered, come true or changed completely. And suddenly, they were adults, with spouses, jobs and children. Everything always seemed to change. The only constant in her entire life was that Lucas Scott had always, and would always be her best friend.

"Lucas?" Haley whispered, stepping into the dark office. She looked around, wrinkling her nose in distaste; the room smelled of a bad combination of dirty laundry and alcohol. Lucas was seated on the futon couch to the left of his desk, a glass of dark liquor in his hand.

"Luke?" She asked again, seating herself next to him. The futon gave a squeak as she sank into the cushion. "Lindsey called me. She's worried about you."

Lucas didn't reply, but drained the rest of his glass. Haley frowned slightly, concern filling her large expressive eyes. She had never seen him like this- his hair disheveled, wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, and looking absolutely, utterly broken.

"Lucas, I understand that you're confused, and hurt, and all of this is making you relive Peyton's death all over again, but please talk to me." She said gently, leaning closer to him.

Lucas said nothing, but leaned down, reaching a hand under the futon, and retrieving a bottle of whiskey. Haley's brow furrowed as he refilled his glass, and held the bottle out to her, wordlessly offering her a drink.

"Okay, that's it." Haley stood up, snatching both the glass and bottle out of Lucas's hands, setting them on the desk, out of his reach.

"Haley, what the hell?!" Lucas cried, scratchily, as though he hadn't used his voice in years.

"Luke, this isn't you, barricading yourself in here, drinking whiskey!" Haley's stern voice was rising slightly, "You're smart and strong and you're better than this! You know how to deal with your problems, and you know what? That's what you're going to do right now. We're going to deal with this."

Lucas looked at his lap. "I can't."

"Yes you can!" Haley said, "Yes you can, Lucas! And yeah, it's going to be hard. It's going to hurt, but you have to be strong and deal with that! It's time to make things better! You owe that to yourself!"

"You don't get it, Hales!" Lucas cried, meeting Haley's tone. "You don't understand!"

"Then please help me understand, Luke," Haley said, sitting down next to him again, "help me understand so we can fix this."

Lucas lowered his head again, closing his eyes, and taking deep breaths. He ran his hands roughly over his face, as Haley rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Luke," she said softly. "It's going to be okay."

"Everything that I believed," Lucas breathed, his voice strained, "everything that happened…it all could have been different. If I could have gone to her…if I had known about this…she wouldn't have died."

"Lucas Scott, this is _not _your fault." Haley said, wrapping her arms around her best friend, "Peyton died because she was so bad that nobody could help her, not even her closest family members. Peyton didn't want to be helped, and that wasn't anybody's fault. You did not cause this."

"I could have saved her," Lucas's voice broke. "I _always _saved her."

"You can't think like that, Lucas. You can't dwell about what could have been, because then you're never going to get past it. Let's try and heal by focusing on what's here and now." Haley's eyes glistened with emotion, "Let's focus on what we're going to do about Elle. Your _daughter. _ And I'm going to be there with you through all of this. Everything's going to be okay."

Lucas was silent for a few moments, collecting himself. Haley tried not to notice when he quickly wiped his eyes, before standing up.

Haley had always known Lucas Scott to be a strong, level-headed man. Yes, sometimes difficult things would get him down, but Lucas was usually smart, perceptive and sympathetic. With a little support and reassurance, Lucas always seemed to get past everything with his head held high. Lucas was known for that.

That's why her heart sank as she watched him walk over to his desk, reaching for the whiskey bottle. He unscrewed the cap before taking an enormous swig, and it was then that Haley realized that Lucas Scott may not be as level headed as she had thought.

"Peyton died." He said harshly, sounding more broken than ever, "That chapter ended. I don't know if I'm ready to relive all of that again."

* * *

It had been one day, twenty two hours, and roughly forty-five minutes since Matt had kissed her on the rivercourt.

Not that she was counting.

But it was a rather pleasant thing to focus on, instead of thinking about things like why her father still had not gotten in contact with her, or why her mother had killed herself, or how her argument with Grandpa Larry had caused him to die of a heart attack.

Yes, thinking about kissing Matt was so much more pleasant.

They hadn't really discussed anything relationship-wise yet. Elle didn't know what they were, exactly. They weren't an official couple, but they really weren't friends-with-benefits, either. Maybe they were still just friends. Elle didn't know, but Matt _had_ told her that he wanted to take her out on an official 'date' tonight, so maybe it was too soon to be confused about this.

As she stood in the shower, Elle let her mind wander. She was acting like an over-excited, boy-crazy thirteen year old. She spent far too long deciding what she was going to wear, how she would do her hair, her makeup…and it was all so silly. This was Matt, who had seen her fresh out of bed, wearing no makeup and ratty pajamas; Matt who had heard her bawling her heart out and didn't judge her for it in the least. Why should she be worrying about this? It wasn't going to be awkward, she was just making it _seem_ that way, because she was worrying about pointless things.

She liked Matt. She really liked him, and it was a little bit strange for her to be feeling this way. She really hadn't ever had these kinds of feelings for anyone before, and Elle didn't know if that was just because she hadn't ever had a friend like Matt before- if her affection for him was so strong just because she was so grateful for their friendship-, or if she was really, truly emotionally attracted to him.

But if he had wanted to take her out on a _date _tonight, then he must be feeling the same way, right?

Elle took a deep breath as the hot water ran down her body, warming her to the very core. After shampooing her hair and shaving her legs, Elle turned the water off, pulled the curtain back and swore quietly when she realized that she forgot to grab a towel.

She gingerly stepped onto the cold tile floor, and began tiptoeing across the large bathroom, to the linen closet next to the toilet, leaving a trail of water in her wake.

She was halfway to her destination when the door suddenly swung open. Elle's eyes widened in horror as Matt bounded into the bathroom, stopping abruptly in his tracks at the sight before him.

They both stood there for a moment, frozen in shock, before Elle hastily tried to cover herself with her hands.

"Matt!" she screeched, horrified, "Get out!"

Matt jumped at the sound of her voice, looking just as flustered and embarrassed as Elle felt.

"I…oh…uh…," He stammered, not taking his eyes off of her body. What the hell was he doing? Why hadn't he knocked? Why hadn't she remembered to lock the door?!

"Matt, come on!" Elle practically pleaded, "Get the hell out!"

"I'm sorry. Shit." he blinked, shaking his head, immediately turning around "Shit. Sorry."

She cringed as he quickly exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Sorry, Elle," he called from hallway.

"Yeah, it's fine!" she replied, humiliated, her voice higher than normal. She reached into the closet, grabbing a large, fluffy towel, and hastily wrapped it around herself, as though someone was still staring at her.

Matt Baker had just seen her naked. So much for not being awkward.

_Then_

"_You ever kissed a boy, Little Elle?" _

_They were all seated in Moe's living room, a typical Saturday night get-together with Moe's familiar crowd. There was Moe, Her sort-of-more-benefits-than-boyfriend Ray, Ray's stoner-ish band mates- Danny, Ziggy, Hoagie and Ryan, Moe's band-groupie friends- Trish, Shanna and Margo. Then there were people Elle recognized from school-, Moe's senior friends, including Joshua Dixon, who had gotten suspended for urinating his name on the north side exterior wall; Faye Glennings, who had apparently gotten pregnant at fifteen and had a three year old kid sitting at home with her father; Vince Victrofsky, Caden Edgar, Holden Caufman, and Ian Shepard, to name a few more. _

_They all knew her, and were friendly enough, but at fourteen, Elle was by far the youngest of the group- something none of them let her forget. They weren't ever nasty to her, but their constant belittlements and embarrassing pet names made it very difficult for Elle to ever feel truly comfortable around these people._

_Margo, with her bleached blonde hair and dark eye makeup, was looking at her, waiting for Elle to answer her question. _

"_Of course." Elle scoffed. _

_It was true. Well, half true. She had kissed a boy before…but not in a serious like make-out kind of way. James Tucker, in seventh grade, had kissed her by the bike racks after cheerleading practice. It was more a quick peck on lips than anything else, but Elle still considered that to be her first kiss. _

_But now, as Elle continued to spend more and more time with Moe and her older friends, that little kiss by the bike racks seemed like nothing compared to the kinds of things she had seen and heard these people talk about, things that she could barely imagine herself doing. _

_Her answer was met with "aww's" and "woo's" from various people in the room, and Elle knew that they were playfully mocking her. Her ears flushed slightly as she took a sip of the beer in her hand. _

"_Are you a virgin, Baby-bell?" Trish asked, her straight black bangs were so long that they shielded her eyes. "You had your little cherry popped yet?" _

_Elle took another sip of beer to distract herself from the fact that her face had just turned very, very red. _

"_Aw, she's blushing." Someone said._

"_Did ya ever do it, kiddo?" Hoagie, or Ziggy (the nicknames always threw her off), one of them, asked. _

_Elle looked helplessly at Moe, who merely raised her eyebrows. That was the thing with Moe- she wasn't ever really all that supportive. Elle had recently learned the difficult lesson of not being able to rely on anyone but herself, but still, if would be nice if Moe would occasionally defend her from these kinds of attacks._

"_No." Elle said quietly, honestly. "I never did it."_

_They crooned and teased her some more, and Elle clenched her jaw, as she grinned as nonchalantly as possible. She was tired of being dubbed 'the baby'. It was time things changed. _

_And that's how Elle found herself very drunk and mouth-to-mouth with Vince Victrofsky, as he seated her on the edge of the bed in Moe's spare bedroom some three hours later. _

_He was kissing her in a way Elle had never been kissed before, as Elle awkwardly kissed him back, praying that he didn't notice that she really had no idea what the hell she was doing. _

_She had drank, a lot, until she was at that point where she wasn't ashamed to throw herself on Vince Victrofsky, who had a considerable amount of alcohol himself. She needed to get drunk enough to get past all of her uncertainties about being inexperienced. She needed to do this for herself. _

_Elle, however, wished that she had taken a few more shots as Vince's hands began to sneak under her shirt, climbing slowly up her ribcage. The muscles in her abdomen tightened as she felt his hands on her skin, momentarily distracting her from his tongue in her mouth. _

_His fingers were burrowing underneath her bra. Elle's heart began to pound beneath her ribs. He had his hand over her…oh, god. A boy had his hand on her bare breast. _

_He momentarily broke away from Elle's face as he peeled her shirt over her head. He took a moment to look at her naked upper half before leaning forward, placing his mouth over her breast. _

_What the hell?! Why was he doing that? Was she supposed to enjoy this? She wasn't enjoying it…in fact, Elle felt more intimidated than ever. _

_But this is what she had wanted…right? She didn't want to be the baby anymore. She wanted to grow up and do all of the things that Moe and her friends were doing. If she was this nervous, then maybe she was just as much of a baby as everyone said. _

_His hands were at her waistband now, unbuttoning her jeans. He slid a hand down the front of her pants and- okay, whoa! Elle stiffened and snapped backward. No, no, no. _

"_What is it?" Vince looked at her, confused by the sudden change in mood. "Isn't this want you want, babe?" _

_Elle took a deep breath, inwardly freaking the hell out. Yes, she wanted to do this. But she hadn't expected this to be so…awkward and confusing. Is this all sex was, just awkward prodding and touching and kissing? Or was it just her? Maybe she wasn't ready for this at all. _

_No! Elle argued with herself, no! She was going to do this, and she was going to grow up. She needed to do this. She just needed to get this over with. _

"_Yes," Elle replied, her voice calm, despite her nerves. She moved toward him again. "This is exactly what I want." _

Now 

Matt took her to a quaint little restaurant near the water. Everything would have been amazing, if it weren't for their awkwardly forced conversation, Matt still dancing around the subject of the little incident in the bathroom earlier that evening.

While Elle had been beyond mortified at the time, most of her embarrassment had disappeared by dinner. So, he had seen her stark naked. Okay, yes, that was horrible, but really, how long could she groan and cringe about it before just sucking it up and dealing with it?

Matt, however, still looked almost as frazzled as he had in the bathroom. He blushed, stammered and mumbled all through dinner. Elle would have found it comical, if it hadn't been their first official date.

After a painfully awkward dinner, Matt and Elle made their way through the parking lot, forcing even more painfully awkward conversation.

"That was really good," Elle said, "Thanks for dinner, Matt."

"Yeah…yeah, you're welcome." He mumbled, as they climbed into the Jeep.

Elle gave a great sigh as Matt made to start the engine, but instead turned to her and looked directly into her eyes for the first time all evening.

"Look, I'm really, really sorry about earlier." He said, color rising in his cheeks. "I didn't know anyone was in the bathroom. I wasn't trying to-,"

"It's okay." Elle cut him off, laughing slightly. "You said that I didn't have to put up fronts around you, so why bother wearing clothes, either?"

Matt laughed at her joke, the tension between them evaporating immensely.

"Besides," Elle grinned mischievously, "It's not like you've never seen a naked girl before."

The smile on Matt's face was immediately replaced by a look of sheepish embarrassment. Elle's eyebrows shot up.

"Unless you haven't ever seen a naked girl before…," she said slowly, surprised.

"Nope." Matt admitted, a little more confidently that Elle had expected. "Well, at least not in person."

"Really?" Elle asked, wonderingly, "So you've never…,"

"Had sex?" Matt finished her sentence, "No. I haven't."

"Wow." Elle thought back to that night in front of the old bar, when Matt told her that he didn't drink. She was filled with the same impressed curiosity that she had been feeling back then. "So…why not?"

Matt shrugged, "I'm not a prude or anything, but it just never happened. I mean, I've had a few girlfriends, but it never got serious enough with any of them. Sex isn't something I think should be rushed. I'm sure it's going to happen eventually, why not wait to make it special?"

"Wow…," Elle said again. "I still can't believe people like you actually exist."

"Is that a bad thing?" Matt half grinned.

"No. Not at all." Elle replied, "It's really nice, actually."

Matt smiled warmly, placing a hand on her knee. It was funny, how Elle had spent most of her adolescence feeling intimidated by people who had pressured her to do things, and now, after she had all of the experience that she thought she needed, was feeling intimidated by someone who had had the strength to say no.

"It's just…" Elle said slowly, "You're so good. You're so strong, and you have all of these morals and standards, and I really don't think I'm good enough for someone who is _so _good."

"Whoa, whoa, Elle," Matt began, but Elle kept speaking.

"I've done bad things, Matt. I've tried things that I wouldn't even dare say aloud. I'm tainted, corrupted and damaged, and knowing that you are so…," She trailed off for a moment, not wanting to call him 'pure', though that was the only word coming to mind.

"I have to be honest; I'm not cool with drinking and drugs. But I know that isn't what you're about anymore, even if it's part of your past. I don't care about the person you used to be. I care about who you are now. And I know that you came into this world with a rocky history, but that doesn't mean you're tainted." He grabbed her hand. "And I don't have standards. You don't need to be intimidated that."

"Okay," she said quietly, a small smile playing her lips.

"So…how old were you?" Matt asked, "When you lost your virginity?"

"Younger than I should have been…," It was Elle's turn to look sheepish. "I was, um…fourteen."

"_Fourteen?_" Matt's eyes widened in surprise, "Wow. Fourteen."

"I was reckless in the years after my mom died. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of." Elle looked down at her lap for a moment, before meeting his eyes again. "But I don't want to keep that from you."

"You shouldn't feel like you have to." Matt replied. "I mean, I feel like I know you really well, but I know that there's a lot that we still don't know about each other. And that's okay. We'll just make an adventure out of it."

Elle's heart swelled with affection, as it often did when Matt said things like this to her. "I like talking to you."

Matt wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "I like talking to you, too."

"And this…us…whatever we are," Elle said softly, resting her head on his shoulder, "I like it. I don't want to rush into anything with you."

People often do things that are very surprising to others. And while this matter is commonly viewed as something negative, it is just as possible to gain something positive from learning something new about someone else.

"Well, here's to taking it slow," Matt pulled her chin toward his own. Elle closed her eyes, leaning in for the kiss.

_Then _

_Late-morning light poured into the spare bedroom. She rolled over, grumbling, as the memories of last night hit her like a ton of bricks. _

_She vaguely remembered Vince leaving the bedroom sometime around four in the morning. But what she really remembered was the pain. The awkward, embarrassing pain; and how he mistook her small, strangled cries for moans of pleasure. _

_She sat up, her head pounding from an obvious hangover, and saw her clothes strewn across the floor. Hitching the bedsheet up to her shoulders, Elle felt an uncomfortable pain from between her legs as she brought her knees against her naked chest. She still hurt. Ouch. _

"_Well, well," Moe appeared in the doorway, in the same outfit she had been wearing last night. "Looks someone did the nasty, Elle-bell." _

_Elle tried to smile, but her face contorted into a grimace. _

"_Not everything you hoped it would be?" Moe asked, leaning against the frame of the door, "Don't sweat it. Your first time always feels like shit. It's nothing like what sex really is." _

_Elle frowned, not entirely convinced. She wanted to lose her virginity so she would feel more like the people who always belittled her. But now, Elle felt more small and uneasy than ever. She looked up at Moe, a sinking feeling in her stomach telling her that she had made a horrible, horrible mistake. _

"_I don't think I was ready." Elle admitted, because Moe was the only one who didn't treat her like a silly kid. "I'm regretting this." _

"_Look, you just gotta shrug it off, dude." Moe said, "You can't take back your v-card. He used protection, right?" _

_Elle nodded, cringing at the embarrassing memory of herself struggling to put his condom on. _

"_I know they put you down and make you feel small," Moe shrugged, "They don't see you like I do. To them, you're a baby cub in the lion's den. You gotta do what you gotta do not to get eaten alive. And hey, they can't call you 'virgin' anymore. Don't regret the things you do to make yourself stronger." _

"_I know." Elle said quietly. Ever since Moe had taken Elle under her wing, she had helped Elle deal with the pain of her mother's death. Moe never provided a shoulder to cry on, but she would constantly reassure Elle that as long as she was strong, things would be okay. Moe, who had also dealt with hardship throughout her childhood, believed that as long as she never let the world see her sweat, the world would back the hell off. _

"_We're strong, remember?" Moe said, "We don't let bullshit like men and sex get us down. You're a warrior, Elle, and you don't wallow in regret. That's shit. Just keep your head up and ignore all the shit that's tellin' you otherwise. You did what you did. So just own that." _

Now

"Lucas," Lindsey burst through the office door, as Lucas looked up from his computer in surprise. She opened her mouth to speak, but faltered as she saw him look up from his keyboard, meeting her eyes briefly, before looking back down.

"What is it, Lindsey?" Lucas grunted.

She had rehearsed the things she would say to her husband, as not to upset him or push him farther away. She would begin with small talk, before cleverly side-tracking to a different subject, leading to another subject, before finally voicing the concerns that were buzzing around in her mind. She would be tentative; concerned, but not overbearing. It was foolproof. She _would _get him to open up to her.

But as she looked into his pained blue eyes, the speech she had written in her head evaporated into nothingness.

"I'm worried about you, Lucas," She burst out, walking over to where he sat, standing almost directly above him. "You're shut up in here, not talking to anyone, and it's scaring me! You aren't acting like yourself."

So much for being tentative.

Lucas did not reply, but looked up at his wife, as though really, truly seeing her for the first time in days. Lindsey finally saw a flash of the strong, kind man she had married, as he noticed how upset she looked as well. That was one of the many things she loved about Lucas- how he was able to see past his own pain at the sign of anyone else's.

"I'm worried about you." She said again, a little quieter this time, "And…I'm worried about us."

"Us?" Lucas echoed, his voice filled with concern at the distraught look on his wife's face. "What about us?"

"I need to know that you're still you. I need to know that you still love us the same." Tears filled Lindsey's eyes.

"Of course," Lucas stood up, rubbing his hands soothingly down Lindsey's arms. "Of course I do."

"I've been walking around for days, trying to ignore this sick, awful feeling in my stomach." Lindsey's voice trembled. "But I can't keep running from the questions I'm afraid to ask, and I need you to be honest with me, Lucas."

"What is it?"

She looked into his eyes, a single tear spilling out of her own. "If you had found out about that baby before Peyton died, would you have gone to her?"

Lucas stared at her for a few moments, openmouthed, before slowly hanging his head. Lindsey stepped away from him, silent tears streaming down her face. She knew he could not lie to her, but his lack of an answer provided one for her anyway. Everything she had been scared of losing, her family, her marriage… everything she had feared was coming true.

Lindsey fled from the room, closing the door behind her. Her chest ached, her limbs shook. She stood in the hallway, unable to move another step, for the overwhelming pain in her heart was almost unbearable. Lucas still hadn't come out of his office.

He hadn't come after her. But he would have gone after Peyton. And at that moment, Lindsey Scott knew that no matter how hard she tried to be the perfect wife, no matter how hard she tried to hold her family together, she would never be blessed with possessing _all_ of her husband's heart.

People often do things that are very surprising to others.

The biggest shock, however, is when it is coming from the one person we thought we knew best.

She leaned against the wall, clapping a shaking hand over her mouth, as a strangled sob escaped from between her fingers.

* * *

**Again, I had a few different things going on in this chapter, and we were reintroduced to Moe, and that stage in Elle's life, Lucas and Haley, Matt and Elle (cheese, heh) Lucas and Lindsey...any thoughts? I'd love to hear what you all think! **

**And as for the Lucas/Elle interaction, I hate to say that we're not going to be seeing anything between them for a few more chapters. Erg, I'm sorry! But I have everything all planned out, please just trust me :) **

**And I can't help but thank you all again for being so incredibly supportive of this story; it really is a true blessing to have such wonderful readers like all of you :) Please take care! **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hellooo everyone!!! I want to apologize for not updating as frequently as I usually do. I'm sorry! I've been kind of reevaluating my life (at the ripe old age of seventeen, heh.) and dealing with a few stressful things in the real world. BUT I'm back, :) because you all are so wonderful, and reading your reviews really kicked my muse back into high gear! You all continue to make me feel incredible, and I thank you SOO much for all of the feedback. :) **

**Just a quick note-- in my story, Tric was never turned into a recording studio, because Peyton never returned to Tree Hill in season 5. It remained a bar/place for shows. :)**

**Enjoy!**

**

* * *

  
**

William Shakespeare once wrote, "_The weight of this sad time we must obey;__  
__Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say_."

It's always been an interesting thing, how people rarely say what they truly want to say. People dance around their feelings, suppressing what they truly want to voice aloud, as to not cause conflict or offend someone else. Whether it be out of cowardice or maturity, people rarely say what they truly want to say.

Elle Sawyer was an expert at holding her tongue, not saying what she felt.

Brooke was taking her to a place called 'Tric', where, apparently, Peyton had done great things, once upon a time. Elle really didn't want to go to this place, but she couldn't blame herself to say that to Brooke, for Brooke had looked so excited to bring Elle there.

They arrived in front of an old warehouse building that didn't look like anything special at all. After climbing the metal staircase and entering through the large double doors, however, Elle couldn't help but look around the room in admiration.

"Welcome to Tric," Brooke announced, cheerfully.

It was amazing; there were chairs, couches and tables, a bar, a dance floor, and a stage, the brick walls tastefully decorated with everything from old records to abstract contemporary art.

"My mom did all this?" Elle asked, wonderingly.

"Well, it's been re-decorated a few times since Peyton ran things, but this place is here because of her. This place was born because of her." Brooke said proudly, following Elle as she walked around.

"Your mom brought in so many bands and artists and she created so many amazing nights here." Brooke smiled fondly, "Peyton had a vision, a dream, of creating a place where people could just go and _enjoy_ music. She wanted other people to experience her love for music, her love for what the music did for her. Peyton wanted to change the world with her passion for music."

Elle frowned slightly. "It all sounds so positive and passionate. Not like my mom at all."

She heard Brooke sigh, before the doors opened again, three figures entering the large room.

"Hales, hey!" Brooke greeted her friend, as Haley made her way over to where Brooke and Elle stood, followed by a tall, dark haired girl that Elle assumed to be Hannah, and none other than Grace Scott.

"What are you two doing here?" Haley asked, cheerfully.

"Just showing Elle what her mom created," Brooke said, rubbing a hand on Elle's shoulder. Elle grinned uncomfortably. Did Brooke _really _have to mention that they were here because of Peyton? Elle didn't miss the quick looks of pity that flashed across the three girls' faces, something that always seemed to happen at the mention of Peyton in Elle's presence.

"It's certainly something worth showing off." Haley replied, looking around.

"Elle, this is my daughter, Hannah," Haley said, looking from Elle to Hannah. "Han, this is your cousin, Elle."

Hannah smiled, waving a hand at Elle. Elle smiled back, feeling slightly awkward from this introduction. She didn't know how much Hannah knew about Peyton's story, although, Grace had seemed to know quite a lot, so Elle couldn't help but assume that Hannah did as well.

"And you've already met Grace…," Brooke said, the smile on her face was slightly forced.

"Yeah," Elle said quietly, flashing a grin at Grace.

Grace returned the friendly gesture, a slightly awkward silence hanging in the air, before she immediately turned to Brooke, grinning excitedly. "Brooke, oh my goodness, me and Han drew some sketches of the swimsuit line we are going to create one day! Wanna see them?!"

"Oh, definitely!" Brooke replied, "I'm so proud of my future fashionistas!"

"They're in the car," Grace grabbed Brooke's hand, leading her toward the door. "C'mon, c'mon! You'll love them, like, totally love them."

"Be right back," Brooke said to Elle and Haley, laughing as Grace led her outside, Hannah close behind them.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" Haley asked Elle. Elle wheeled around to face her.

"What's impressive?"

"This place," Haley gestured to the room. "What she did."

"Yeah, it's great." Elle replied, something souring in her mouth. Of course Haley was going to talk about Peyton. Why couldn't everyone here just get to know Elle without feeling like they had to talk about Peyton?

"You know, Peyton really helped inspire me to pursue my music career." Haley's eyes shined. "I used to be so shy and quiet, but Nathan and Peyton were the ones who really brought me out of my shell. Peyton made me realize how much I loved music."

"That's really great." Elle smiled politely, though her insides were doing flip-flops.

"Peyton created magic with her heart and spirit." Haley said, "That's why this place is so special, and that's why we all work so hard to keep it the way Peyton had first envisioned."

_Yeah, too bad she never cared to keep it that way herself. _Elle could have rolled her eyes. She could have screamed, actually. Were all of these people blind to the fact that Peyton had killed herself? Did they not know how messed up and wrong that was?! Why didn't they notice that Elle didn't care about who Peyton was? The Peyton that Elle knew wasn't brave or inspiring or any of that, and _that _was the thing that bothered Elle-- That Peyton was all of these amazing things, but when it came to being strong and inspiring for her _child,_ she wasn't. Not at all. Why didn't they understand?

Grace, Hannah and Brooke entered the room once again, chatting lightly.

"So what brought you three down here, anyway, Hales?" Brooke asked, "Isn't today your day off?"

"Yeah, but there's a show tomorrow night," Haley replied, "_Vinyl Whiplash._ I've got so much preparing to do. I had to run in and check up on a few things."

"Need a hand with anything?" Brooke tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'd be happy to help."

"Actually, I was just gonna run backstage real fast. I need to check the lights." Haley glanced over toward the stage, "Would you mind?"

"Not at all!" Brooke smiled, as the two women took off toward the stage, leaving Grace, Hannah and Elle standing in an awkward, silent circle. The two younger girls were both looking at her, and Elle got the feeling that Grace and Hannah had definitely spent some time gossiping about her.

"So…what's it like in LA?" Grace finally asked, obviously forcing conversation.

"I bet it's a lot better than Tree Hill." Hannah added.

Elle shrugged, thankful for Grace taking the initiative to break the ice. "I actually like it here a lot better. LA was gross and polluted. It's just cozier and homier here. I don't know." Elle really wanted to say, '_My mom didn't commit suicide in Tree Hill, and my Grandpa didn't die in Tree Hill.'_

"I guess." Hannah said. "I've always wanted to go to California."

"Ohh-em-gee, me too, Han." Grace nodded, turning back to Elle. "It's so cool that you, like, traveled here all on your own."

"Oh, uh, I guess so." Elle's stomach lurched. She didn't like speaking about the reason why she had just packed up and left so suddenly.

"My parents would never let me do that." Hannah mused. "They'd kill me if I ever took off across the country."

Elle bit her lip, not knowing what to say. It's not like she had any parental supervision when she left LA. She saw Grace eying her, noticing the uncomfortable look on Elle's face.

"Yeah, but Elle's eighteen. She can do whatever she wants." Grace said, and Elle inwardly thanked the younger girl for speaking on her behalf.

"Yeah, I had a lot of freedom." Elle added, before quickly changing the subject. "So…you guys go to Tree Hill High?"

"Yep!" Grace chirped, "I'm sophomore class Prez, and Han's the only freshman on the varsity swim team!"

"Way to brag, G Scott." Hannah rolled her eyes, but smiled proudly.

"But you're like, so lucky you graduated." Grace said to Elle. "I can't wait until college! I'm looking at either Duke or UNC Chapel Hill. Where are you going?"

"Oh, uh, I hadn't really thought about it yet." Elle said. What she really wanted to say was, _'My grandpa died and I took off before I could even think about college. Yeah, I'm lucky alright…'_

"Oh. Well…that's okay." Grace said lamely. "You have plenty of time to figure it all out."

"Yeah." Hannah added, "I don't know where I'm going either."

_You're fourteen._ Elle resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Me and Han want to be designers, like Brooke." Grace said, "We want to design this couture swimsuit line-,"

"Slash Olympic athelete swimsuit line," Hannah interrupted.

"Yeah, that." Grace said, not missing a beat, "and Brooke's been _so _supportive. We've been like, planning this since we were little kids. It used to be princess gowns, then it was like, jeans and stuff, but now we're doing swimwear. It's so chic, right, Han?"

"Yeah," Hannah said. "Grace does all the design-y things, but I make sure they're practical."

Elle smiled, nodding. She didn't have any idea what they were talking about. She did, however, have a jealous lump in the pit of her stomach. She often ignored this feeling when she interacted with other girls, but Elle couldn't help but feel jealous toward Grace and Hannah's relationship. They were cousins, and obviously extremely close. They had grown up together, experienced things together, and had dreams together. Elle hadn't ever had this kind of relationship with anybody, and it pissed her off when she saw people like Grace and Hannah interacting with each other. Elle wanted that kind of relationship too.

It was strange for her to think of Grace as her sister. Well, half sister. Still, Grace and Hannah didn't feel like family at all. Elle didn't want to dislike Grace and Hannah, but there was something about the two of them that was slightly off-putting. Maybe it was just because Elle wasn't used to interacting with peppy, smiley teenage girls, or maybe it was because all Elle wanted to do was ask Grace what the hell her father was up to. What _their _father was up to.

She couldn't stop thinking about him, and it had been almost a week since the scene in Brooke's kitchen. Brooke had reassured her that Lucas was a great guy, and then Matt and Nathan had done the same. Sure, that was all great and everything, but Elle didn't want their reassurance. She wanted a chance to get to know him herself, a chance to form her _own _opinions about him, not just imagine him through the things that others told her. Why couldn't he just come talk to her? Was he _really _that upset by all of this to the point where he couldn't even come see her, or did he just not care? Elle hated not knowing.

All of this thinking and wondering had pulled Elle into a deep funk, for she had to force herself to cheerfully bid Haley, Hannah and Grace goodbye as they left, some ten minutes later. A bad mood was often the result of dwelling on things concerning Peyton, and Elle couldn't help but blame Peyton for her bad feelings now.

If Peyton hadn't robbed her of knowing this world, maybe Elle would have grown up along with Grace and Hannah, or maybe she would have had a best friend or a better outlook on relationships in general. None of this would have happened if Peyton had been different. No matter how Elle sliced it, everything always came back down to Peyton.

"You seemed to be getting along with Grace and Hannah," Brooke said, as they climbed back down the metal stairs toward the car. "I'm glad."

"Yeah, they're nice." Elle said, not really wanting to talk about anything. It happened every once in a while, where her feelings of resentment toward Peyton would cause her to be in a bad mood, but Elle rarely voiced these feelings aloud, just letting the feelings simmer and seethe on the inside.

"They're great girls." Brooke smiled. "It was beautiful to watch you all interact…all of my best friends' children. I almost saw a flash of us in all of you."

"It's nice that all of you stayed such good friends for this long. I didn't think friendships like that were even possible." Elle said, sounding a little sadder than she had intended. She was seriously feeling sorry for herself today.

Brooke smiled slightly, "I was blessed with the greatest group of friends when I was in high school."

"Don't take them for granted." Elle said, "Not all of us had friendships like that."

"Where is this coming from?" Brooke asked, concerned.

"I never had beautiful friendships like you and Haley, or Grace and Hannah." Elle sighed, _or you and my mom,_ "I mean, I had friends, but they weren't anyone I could go to for anything, or talk to if I was sad. I guess I'm just saying that I hope you don't take those friendships for granted, because some of us spend a lifetime yearning for a relationship like that."

_Then_

"_You're leaving?" Elle burst through Moe's front door, looking around the familiar living room where she had spent almost every weekend in for the past three years. The familiar room, however, was looking quite unfamiliar-- the couch and coffee table, the chairs, posters, TV, stereo, kitchen appliances, were all gone. The room was completely empty except for a large duffel bag resting on the kitchen counter. _

"_Yep." Moe said simply, emerging from her bedroom, a small box under her arm. "Ray and the band are moving to New York. They want me to go with them." _

"_And you are?" Elle cried, her mouth still agape from the shock of seeing Moe's apartment empty. "You're going to go?" _

"_Yep." Moe said again, grabbing the duffel bag from the kitchen and slinging it over her shoulder, leaving her house keys on the countertop. Elle followed her out the door as Moe climbed down the stairs without a second glance. _

"_But…but why?!" Elle spluttered. She had last spoken to Moe not even three days ago, and Moe had not said anything about moving away. Elle knew that Moe was spontaneous, but this was almost ridiculous. _

"_It's about time I get the hell outta here." Moe answered, nonchalantly. "I hate this damn town."_

_They had reached the parking lot, where Moe's big green 1973 VW Bus- the mystery machine- sat, the large interior packed with boxes, trunks and suitcases. The realization that Moe was actually leaving hit Elle with the force of a kick in the stomach. _

"_So you're just leaving? Just like that?" Elle frowned. "You're just going to leave your life and run off to New York?"_

"_My life?!" Moe suddenly wheeled around to face her, and Elle nearly jumped backward at the sudden frustrated tone in Moe's voice. "What life?! Take a look around, Elle! I have no life here! I don't go to school, and I have the world's fuckin' shittiest job! I don't want to live in this shithole of a town, flippin' burgers for the rest of my life!"_

_Elle blinked, surprised by Moe's sudden outburst. In the three years she had known Moe, Moe had rarely lost her cool like this. Moe was always in control; always walking around with her jaw set and her head held high. It wasn't like Moe to be this emotional. _

_Moe forcefully shoved the duffel bag into the mystery machine, before throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm twenty-one years old and my life's already shot to hell! There's nothing left for me here! I can go to New York and start over!" _

"_But what about me?" Elle said, almost pathetically, "You're just going to abandon me?" _

"_Elle, I'm not your babysitter!" Moe cried. "You're seventeen for Christ's sake!" _

"_But we're friends," Elle said quietly, emotion constricting her heart. She wanted to add- 'you're my only friend' to the end of her sentence, but couldn't bring herself to voice it aloud, for there was a lump now growing in her throat. _

"_You'll make new friends, Elle. You're strong, remember?" Moe's tone softened at the heartbroken look on Elle's face. Tears pooled in Elle's eyes, as Elle shamefully looked away, not wanting Moe to see. _

"_Hey, you're not gonna do that." Moe said, taking a step toward her, "You're not gonna get all sad and shit. That's not how we handle things. We're warriors, remember? We don't let shit get us down." _

_Elle blinked and looked back at Moe, dry-eyed. "I don't want you to go." _

"_I gotta do this. I gotta fuckin do something with my life." Moe said, closing the back door of her van. "Look, you're still young. You have time to straighten your shit out before you end up like me. You're better than this, kid." _

_Moe climbed into the driver's seat, closing the door and starting the engine. She leaned out of the open window, looking at Elle. "I'll see ya, Elle-bell." _

_Without a glance back, Moe took off, the loud rumbling of the mystery machine growing quieter and quieter as it retreated further and further away. Elle swallowed the lump in her throat, as she watched Moe's van disappear down the street. _

_It was pathetic, how she had become so dependent on this older girl, and though Elle would never admit it to anyone, especially Moe, she didn't know how she was going to keep being strong alone. It was different when she was following Moe's example, pretending like she didn't give a damn about anything in the world, but Elle had always known that she and Moe were different. Moe had never seemed to feel anything as strongly as Elle had. Moe was better at being strong. _

'_People always leave', her mother used to say. Elle used to think that it was an incredibly negative thing to say, but now, as she stood alone in the empty parking lot, she didn't think that it was such a crazy thing to believe after all. First, it had been her birth father, then her stepfather, and then Brooke. And then it had been her mother, all of her old friends, and now, Moe. _

_But the thing that hurt the most was the realization that Moe had never needed Elle the way that Elle needed Moe. Moe was able to leave without a single second glance. Moe never needed anybody. But Elle had spent three years looking up to her and depending on her to get through the day. _

_Her mom didn't care enough about her to stick around, and apparently Moe didn't either. Maybe Moe was right- you can't depend on anyone but yourself. People always leave._

Now

The tension could have been cut with a knife.

Particularly, a steak knife, for Lindsey had spent the afternoon preparing pork tenderloin for dinner.

She sat across the table from Lucas, both of them looking down at their plates. They had barely exchanged three sentences since Lindsey had confronted him in his office, two nights earlier.

Lindsey was angry at him. At least, that was as close of an emotion she could use to describe the confusion buzzing around in her mind. Yes, she was angry, but she was also hurt, scared, ashamed, heartbroken, conflicted, and concerned as well.

But she couldn't bring herself to talk to him about it. If he couldn't talk to her about what he was feeling, then how could she tell him about her own feelings? And how could she get past the fact that he was in love with another woman?

Yes, he was in love with another woman, but she was dead! She wasn't ever going to show up on their doorstep, expressing her deep, passionate feelings for Lucas. Lucas couldn't ever run off to be with Peyton. Peyton was dead, and Lindsey shouldn't be feeling concerned about the matter.

But…he would have gone to her. He would have gone and been with her, had she not killed herself. Lindsey couldn't help but play 'what-if' over and over again in her mind, creating horrible scenarios in which Lucas left her and Grace to be with Peyton and Elle. Lindsey couldn't help but worry if Lucas was doing the same.

A part of her felt selfish, for not being more supportive of Lucas; for she knew that he was currently feeling so absolutely broken and confused, and Lindsey hated herself for not being able to provide him any comfort. She hated that she was letting him go through all of this on his own.

But what was she supposed to do? What could she say to make this better? Especially after Lucas had admitted that he would have gone after Peyton…how could she just shrug that off and pull him into a hug? How could she help him when he refused to let himself be helped? How couldn't he see how much this was affecting her as well? How could she help him through this when there was nobody to help _her _through this?

The sound of the front door opening made Lindsey look up from her plate at last. It was a few moments before Grace entered the kitchen, not noticing the tension between her parents. Lindsey's nostril's flared as Grace joined them at the dinner table.

"You're late," she said, looking at her teenage daughter.

"Sorry," Grace shrugged, spooning green beans onto her plate. "A big friggin five minutes, wooo."

"Watch it," Lindsey raised an eyebrow as Lucas sighed.

"I'm going to eat in my office." Lucas grumbled, standing up. "I've got work to do."

"In July?" Grace asked, "You're a high school basketball coach! What kind of work could you have to do in July?"

Lucas didn't answer as she disappeared down the hallway. Lindsey closed her eyes at the sound of his office door slamming.

"What's his problem, Mom?" Grace asked, "I get that he's still like, shocked and whatever, but this is messed up!"

"He's just dealing with a lot." Lindsey said, her jaw clenched. "He's having trouble processing it all."

Lindsey didn't need to look at Grace to know that her daughter could tell that she was lying. Grace, however, didn't ask anything else about Lucas.

"So, where were you today?" Lindsey asked, making conversation.

"With Hannah." Grace answered. "We spent the day with Aunt Haley."

"That's nice," Lindsey smiled, "What did you all do?"

"We went shopping. And stopped by Tric." Grace said, chewing on the tip a green bean. "We ran into Brooke and Elle."

Lindsey stiffened. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Grace continued. "I know that you and dad are all mad at Brooke or whatever, but I miss her. I hate that we barely get to see her anymore."

Lindsey said nothing as Grace chattered on.

"And you know, Mom," Grace said, "Dad should really get to know Elle. I like her. She's really kind of quiet, but she's like super nice and GOR-geous. And she-,"

"Okay, Grace! I get it!" Lindsey snapped, without meaning to snap. Before she could save face, Grace was already rolling her eyes. Lindsey could tell by the look on Grace's face that Grace finally sensed the tension that hung heavy in the air. But Grace, unlike both of her introverted parents, never tiptoed around something that needed to be said.

"I think," Grace raised an eyebrow, spite dancing in her gray eyes, "that we should invite her over for dinner."

"I don't think so." Lindsey said, her cheeks coloring. She knew that Grace had only said that to prove her suspicion that her parents were having problems concerning the acceptance of Elle's existence, and Lindsey hated that her daughter often said things like this to get her parents to address something that _wasn't _to be discussed. "No. You father won't have that."

"Really?" Grace asked, raising an eyebrow, "He won't have that, or _you _won't have that?"

"Grace!" Lindsey frowned, "This isn't about me. Your dad's still-,"

"No, mom, this is all about you." Grace folded her arms. "You're scared. If you really cared about helping dad deal with all of this, then you would be in there talking to him right now!"

Lindsey's jaw dropped, as Grace narrowed her eyes. "It's not fair to hate Elle just because her dead mother is threatening your marriage."

"Grace Karen Scott!" Lindsey scolded, shocked by the icy tone in her daughter's voice. "How dare you talk to me like that, what's wrong with you?! You go to your room right now!"

"Gladly!" Grace fired back, standing up. "Anything's better than sitting here, listening to you lying to me like I'm too stupid to see right through your BS!"

Before Lindsey could retort, Grace had stomped out of the room. Lindsey rested her head in her hands as Grace's door slammed—the second door that had been closed to her that night.

She was good at holding her tongue for the good of her family, but now, when it came time to voice her concerns, rather than stifling them, as she had done for so many years, Lindsey couldn't do it.

Though she had plenty of things in mind to say to them, Lindsey couldn't bring herself to get up and confront her husband or her daughter.

"_The weight of this sad time we must obey;__  
__Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say_."

* * *

**Well, this chapter didn't turn out as strong as I would have liked it to, but I hope it will suffice :) **

**Lindsey continues to be confused (and confusing, heh), Lucas is still in a dark place, and we did get to know Grace a little better as well! I know Elle was pretty negative throughout the beginning of the chapter, but I tried to think realistically-- sometimes we just have days when we get into funks, and Elle was the perfect person to experiment with for that, because she is still dealing with all of those confusing feelings toward Peyton. Am I making sense? ha :)**

**Anyway, the excitement really begins to kick off again in the next chapter, as we begin to further dive into the plot. More drama ahead! :) **

**Please let me know what you thought! and if you have any ideas or concerns- i'd love to hear them :) Thanks again to all who reviewed, I can't express the level of my gratitude!!(rhyme, har har har)  
**

**Take care everyone!! **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay, I suck. I'm sorry for not updating in so long!!! I hope I still have readers!!!!!!! :0 Sorry to everyone who has been so faithful to this story, I'm terrible. And for everyone who reviewed last time, THANK YOU so much, you all are an incredible blessing. :)  
**

**This chapter is probably my longest yet- I hope it makes up for my long absence :) **

* * *

"Trust me, Elle," Matt said, "Tric shows are awesome. You're gonna love it."

"It's so cool that Haley does all this." Elle replied, holding the laminated pass that hung around her neck, "And even cooler that we get backstage passes."

"It's definitely a treat." Jamie turned to them as they approached the warehouse building Elle had visited with Brooke the day before. "We've met so many legit bands because of mom."

"Yeah," Hannah piped up, "It's like being a famous person."

"Aunt Haley, like, _is _a famous person." Grace added, giggling.

"There's a great lineup tonight." Jamie continued, as they made their way up the stairs and into the building, past the line of people that reached halfway down the street, "We're opening with Darcy Wyatt, this local singer-songwriter that mom discovered, and then there's gonna be _Vinyl Whiplash, _and then we're closing with _The Quiet Scream._"

Elle went rigid as something in her mind suddenly clinked into place. _Vinyl Whiplash_…Haley had mentioned it yesterday, and she had seen the name displayed on posters around town...the name had sounded awfully familiar, but Elle couldn't remember where she had heard the name before.

Until now. She couldn't believe that she hadn't remembered it sooner, and felt almost stupid for not recognizing the band that had played such a huge role in her early teenage years.

_Vinyl Whiplash _was Ray's band. Moe always dragged Elle to see shows they played at around LA. She hung out with them at Moe's almost every weekend for three years. How the hell could she have not remembered it sooner?

It had been over a year since she had seen or heard from any of them, since they all took off for New York last spring. Elle remembered how shocked and abandoned she felt when they all suddenly packed up and left town, how hurt she was when Moe left without warning. Was Moe was here with them tonight?

Elle's chest swelled with anxiety as she followed Matt and Jamie through the crowded bar, a completely different scene from the empty area she had been standing in yesterday. Her head was spinning, she didn't know why she felt so incredibly on edge, for she should have been somewhat overjoyed about running into all of her old friends.

"Where are we going?" Elle asked loudly, over the crowd, clutching Matt's arm tightly.

"Backstage," Jamie replied, pressing forward, "Mom's back there with the bands. We're gonna go see her before the show starts."

They reached a pair of iron doors, in which a large man in a black shirt stood in front of. Jamie held the pass from around his neck in the air, and the man nodded, stepping aside. Elle, Grace and Hannah followed Matt and Jamie as they slipped past the large man, each flashing their passes. The noise of the crowd was immediately cut off as the doors closed behind them.

"I always feel so _cool _when we do that." Grace laughed, linking arms with Hannah. "This is sweet, right, Elle?"

"Yeah, awesome," Elle said absently, looking wildly around the large hallway they were standing in. Her heart pounded in her chest as she twisted her fingers around one another.

"This way, guys, follow me," Jamie lead them up to the end of the hall, the roar of the crowd growing louder as they apparently drew closer and closer to the back of the stage. Rounding a corner, they had reached their destination at last. The bright lights shone down on a busy room full of instruments and people, and Elle's chest tightened as her eyes found all of the familiar people from her past.

Haley was talking to the unmistakable blonde dreadlocks of Hoagie. She spotted Ziggy and Danny tuning up their guitars, and before Elle knew what she was doing, she was backing out of the room as fast as she could.

Once back in the hallway, Elle closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths. She felt strange, as though she was bracing for a sonic boom from the impact of her two worlds suddenly colliding. Of all the places for them to go, they had to come to Tree Hill, the one place where Elle thought she had finally escaped the world she had run away from. She didn't know if she could handle seeing them again, if she could handle reliving that time in her life. She especially didn't know what she would do if she happened to run into Moe.

"Elle," Matt's voice made Elle's eyes snap back open. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…," Elle replied, "I just needed some air."

Matt narrowed his eyes, and Elle knew that he could tell that she was lying. "What's going on?"

"_Vinyl Whiplash_…they're my old friends from LA. I haven't heard from them in over a year." Elle sighed. "I don't know, I guess I just got a little freaked when I saw them. It's like my past is coming back to haunt me or something."

"Is that necessarily a bad thing?" Matt asked, "I mean, they're your friends, right?"

"It's complicated." Elle bit her lip. "My relationship with them, I mean."

"How so?" Matt's forehead crinkled.

Elle hadn't really told him or anyone, for that matter, about her old friends. It was just easier not to, than to get into all of the details about why her relationship with these people had been so confusing. They were Moe's friends, and Elle was Moe's friend. In a perfect world, that would have made Elle friends with the band as well. They were nice enough, but they never really treated Elle like one of them. They always just seemed to put up with Elle because of Moe.

"We just…we had a complicated friendship." Elle said, "Or at least, _I_ had a complicated friendship with them. They were a lot older than me, and I was pretty much the kid sister. I thought they cared about me, but one day they all up and left without so much as a goodbye."

"So, you're mad at them?" Matt tried to understand, "Because they left?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Elle shook her head. "I don't know, I can't really explain it."

She paused, as Matt rubbed a hand down her arm.

"It's just that they're here, here in Tree Hill." Elle said, "That's what's freaking me out. I thought I had gotten past all of the shit that happened in LA. That was a dark time for me, Matt. Being here, with you and Brooke, it's been like a fairy tale. A do-over. I've been so incredibly happy here, and sometimes at night I lie awake in bed and fear that it's all just a blissful dream. That I'll wake up and be back in that life I ran away from. Them being here is like me waking up and being thrown back into that nightmare."

Matt looked at her for a few moments, unsure what to say. At a loss for words, he sighed and pulled a very distressed Elle into his arms. Elle melted into his torso, breathing heavily against his chest.

"What happens when your dream and your nightmare collide?" She asked, looking up at him.

"I don't know." He replied, "But you don't have to be afraid of waking up from this life. I won't have it. And I'll protect you from the nightmares."

"Thank you," She whispered, feeling the familiar feeling of overwhelming gratitude toward him when he would make her feel safe. "Thank you, Matt."

"Wanna go find a table? Backstage passes are overrated anyway." He smiled down at her.

"Let's go." Grinning back, she took his hand as they made their way back out into the bar.

They found a small table near the back of the room, under a large poster of Eric Clapton that hung on the wall. Not long after they had been seated, Jamie, Hannah and Grace arrived, all pulling chairs and seating themselves as well.

"What happened to you guys?" Jamie asked, "We didn't see you backstage."

"I had to find a bathroom." Elle replied, nonchalantly, "Matt showed me where one was."

"You guys totally missed a great opportunity to chat with the band!" Grace said, "_Vinyl Whiplash _is awesome! And they're all like, super chill. The lead singer, Ryan, told me they're just starting to hit it big time. And Elle, they're originally from LA, like you! How weird, right?"

"Yeah," Elle nodded, "Small friggin world."

Elle's insides continued to turn in knots as Haley appeared onstage, introducing Darcy Wyatt, a thin, flower child-ish redheaded girl with an acoustic guitar and a flowy skirt. She began to play an upbeat, lighthearted melody of chord progressions on her guitar before singing equally happy and cheerful lyrics. Elle would have appreciated the performance more if she hadn't been so preoccupied with her current anxiety.

As Darcy Wyatt finished her coffeehouse-like ballad, she exited the stage as the crowd applauded. Haley appeared back on the stage, and Elle's stomach lurched as _Vinyl Whiplash _was called on stage, met with a roar of excitement from the audience.

"We're back, like, way too far." Grace said, as Elle watched the familiar faces of Ray, Hoagie, Ziggy, Danny and Ryan file onto the stage. "Let's go up closer!"

"Eh, I don't know," Elle shrugged, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "It's nice back here."

"C'mon, dude, you gotta get the full experience!" Jamie grinned, standing up, "The mosh pit is a blast."

"Everyone's jumping and dancing, and it's just like, so much fun." Grace stood up as well, linking arms with Hannah again. "Please, Elle, come dance with us!"

"The stage lights are so bright the band can't see who's in the crowd," Matt whispered into Elle's ear, nudging her slightly, "They won't see you in the mass of people."

Elle sighed, looking at the eager faces of Jamie, Hannah and Grace. These people were her family. They wanted to spend time with her. They wanted her to experience a good time with them, something nobody in LA had seemed to care about. How could she say no to that?

"Okay," She stood up, as Grace squealed excitedly, grabbing Elle by the arm. Matt smiled encouragingly at her as he followed suit.

"Matt, could you hold my phone?" Elle asked, reaching into the top of her sundress and pulling her cell phone out of one of the cups of her bra. "I don't have any pockets."

Matt snorted and held his hand out, taking Elle's phone. "Classy, Elle."

"It's innovative." Elle retorted back, smirking.

Grace, who still had her hand on Elle's arm, steered them through the mass of people surrounding the stage, until they were merely feet from the very front. The band began to play a song that Elle recognized from one of the many shows she had been to with Moe, and she couldn't help but sing the words inside her head. Grace and Hannah began to cheer and jump next to her, and Elle, meeting eyes with Matt, began to jump up and down along with them.

As her old friends continued to play familiar songs on stage, Elle's mood began to lighten as she danced next to Grace and Hannah, the roar of the crowd ringing in her ears. She was sort of enjoying herself, she was at a concert with her new family, and they were all having fun together. Right now, they weren't a broken family torn apart by lies, they were just a group of kids dancing at a concert. And to Elle, that was magical.

Elle, Grace and Hannah had gotten separated from Matt and Jamie sometime after the band's fourth song, but Elle, her arm linked around Grace's, danced and jumped until _Vinyl Whiplash_ played their very last song. The band exited the stage as Grace pulled Elle toward the iron doors leading backstage again.

"Whoa, whoa," Elle cried, yanking her arm out of Grace's grasp, as they stood feet from the door. "What are we doing?"

"Going backstage, duh!" Grace replied, "I wanna see the band again!"

"C'mon, Elle," Hannah added, "Let's go before we miss them!"

All the lighthearted and carefree feelings that Elle had been experiencing suddenly left her like a balloon deflating. She didn't want to go see the band. She didn't want to be reacquainted with that time in her life.

"I'm going to go find Matt," Elle made to turn, but Grace grabbed her hand again.

"What's up, Elle?" She asked, her gray eyes confused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just-," Elle began, but a familiar, tough, raspy voice cut her off.

"Shit, Elle-bell?"

Elle looked up just in time to see none other that Moe appearing from behind the large iron door, standing face to face with Elle, Grace and Hannah.

"It that really fuckin' you?" Moe asked, "Are you shitting me?!"

Moe stood before them, in her typical uniform of tight jeans and a leather jacket, her dark brown hair still hung in choppy layers to her shoulders, and her eyes still hidden behind layers of dark makeup. She looked almost exactly the same, as though she was stepping right out of Elle's memory.

"Moe," Elle breathed, "Hi,"

"Holy fuckin' shit!" Moe cried, a wide grin spreading across her angular face, "I can't fuckin' believe it!"

Moe stepped past Grace and Hannah and pulled Elle into a giant bear hug. Elle's anxiety suddenly melted at this gesture, her arms folding around Moe as well. Why had she been feeling so anxious about seeing them earlier? Why had she been so nervous to meet up with the people who basically took care of her throughout her teenage years?

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Moe asked, her smile as wide as ever, "We're in North fuckin' Carolina!"

"It's a long story." Elle smiled back, "A really long story."

"Well, I wanna hear it! Shit, this is so fuckin' weird," Moe laughed. "Come backstage, Ray's gonna flip fuckin' shit when he sees you! You're all grown up!"

"Yeah, I bet," Elle smiled, then looked over at Grace and Hannah, who had been watching the older girls with confused looks on their faces. "Moe, this is Grace, and Hannah,"

"Howdy," Moe gave a wave before grabbing Elle by the wrist and pulling her toward the iron doors. Grace and Hannah glanced at each other, and then back at Elle. Elle motioned for them to follow her. Moe looked at the passes around their necks, "Shit, backstage passes? What kind of shit have you been gettin' into this year, Elle-bell?"

"My mom runs the place," Hannah said, "Haley James Scott,"

"No shit?" Moe asked, as they made their way up the hallway, "That's pretty legit, dude."

"I know, right?" Grace said. "We get passes all the time! We actually just met the band before they went on, isn't that sweet? We were just about to come back here and talk to the band again."

They reached the room Elle had fled from earlier, and as Grace made to wave to the bandmates, Moe shouted, "Ray! Look who I found in fuckin' Tree Hill, North Carolina?"

Ray looked up, along with Ziggy, Hoagie, Danny and Ryan, all of their mouths dropping.

"Hey guys!" Grace said, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "Ohmygod, you guys rocked it tonight! I was so-,"

"Shit, Elle-bell?!" Ray said, walking directly past Grace and over to Elle and Moe, the others following directly behind him.

"Baby-Bell!" Ryan and Ziggy chorused, giving her nuggies.

"Holy shit, dude!" Danny said, "You're so big!"

"Yeah, you grew tits," Hoagie grinned, "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up, _Hoagie_," Elle rolled her eyes, but smiled back.

It was strange, standing here surrounded by her old crowd. She had expected herself to feel more confusion and anxiety, like before, but suddenly felt nothing but happiness. Grace, who looked shocked that Elle was on a first-name basis with this band, stood open-mouthed next to an equally surprised looking Hannah. If this was her two worlds colliding, then Elle really had nothing to be nervous about at all.

"Did we miss something here?" Grace spoke up, "Elle, you know them?"

"Yeah," Elle replied, almost apologetically for not telling them before, "We all knew each other in Los Angeles."

"And you didn't say anything?!" Hannah cried.

"Wait, you know _them?_" Ray asked Elle, pointing to Grace and Hannah. "The kids of the lady who runs this place? We met them before the show."

"Yeah, I was getting to that," Elle said, "It's a long story-,"

"Elle's my half sister," Grace said boldly, "And Hannah's our cousin."

"Wait, _what?_" Moe turned to Elle, "Since when do you have a sister?!"

"And how did ya end all the way in North Carolina?" Hoagie asked.

"Long story…," Elle breathed, "Um, I don't even know where to begin."

"Well, dude, we're all rollin' out soon," Moe said, "There's this house party on South Street that we're about to hit up."

"A party?" Grace asked, "With the band?"

"Hells yes," Ziggy said, "It's gonna be legit."

"Y'all want to come?" Moe asked, "We got room. And we're comin' back here later anyway. I have to hear this _long story._"

"Yes!" Grace said, excitedly, "Omg, let's go!"

"I don't know…," Elle said, "What about Matt and Jamie?"

"Oh c'mon, we'll go to the party, and be back by the time the show's over! Matt and Jamie won't even notice we're gone!" Grace said, "Let's go!"

"I have an 11:30 curfew, Grace," Hannah said, as Grace glared at her cousin.

"Flashback to baby-bell Elle," Moe snorted, "Holy shit, y'all are related!"

"Han-nah!" Grace groaned, "Live a little! They won't even notice we're gone! This will be cooler than _any _lame high school party we've ever been to!"

"Fine," Hannah grumbled, "Let's go."

"Alrighty, let's get a move on!" Moe called, as the group began to file out the door. Elle shook her head, trying to process what had just happened. She hadn't been to a party in a while, _especially _a party with Moe and the band. But she knew that parties with Moe were hardly ever anything less than a riot.

She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach about leaving Tric, but Elle couldn't force herself to stand up to Moe. She knew that Grace and Hannah had no idea about what kind of party this would be, and that they would be extremely vulnerable to the kind of shit that went down at places like this. She should've said something before they reached the parking lot, standing in front of Moe's familiar green Mystery Machine, but it was as though Elle was suddenly fourteen years old again, the baby, the one who went along with the older kids in an attempt at looking cool. It was as though she had fallen right back into her old life.

Her two worlds had collided.

"Omg, this is crazy!" Grace giggled to Hannah, as they all piled into the van, "Nobody else at school is going to be able to top this!"

"Glad to see you still have the Mystery Machine," Elle said.

"It's got me this far," Moe said. "I actually lived in it for about six months."

"What? When?" Elle asked, "In New York?"

"We all lived in it," Ray said, "Before we could fuckin' afford an apartment."

"But then we hit it. We got signed with this little record label in Brooklyn." Ryan said, "Now we're tourin' the east coast, playin' small shows, and we're gonna be headlining at the fuckin' House of Blues in no time. We're gonna make it big."

Elle almost smiled, she remembered they all always dreamed about playing and touring when they all lived in LA. It was strange how much things had changed since then, not only for herself, but for all of them as well.

They had reached the house on South Street, hardly visible from the road, for it was hidden by a considerable amount to trees. Pulling the van into the grass, they all climbed out, making their way through the trees and up to the house.

"Okay, guys, we're only staying like an hour." Elle said to Grace and Hannah, both of whom could barely contain their excitement. "Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Don't worry," Grace said, rolling her eyes. "I'm not a child, Elle."

"We're not idiots, we know what goes on at parties," Hannah scoffed, "I've seen _Jersey Shore." _

It was nothing short of a rager. People were dancing on the rooftop, in the yard, there were people hanging out of windows and some already passed out in the grass. Elle followed Moe inside, Grace and Hannah disappearing into the mass of bodies somewhere in front of them.

Grabbing a beer from one of the various coolers around the living room, Moe plopped herself down on a moth-eaten sofa against the wall, patting the cushion next to her, motioning Elle to take a seat.

"Alright, Elle," Moe said, Elle joined her on the couch, "So what the hell's been happening this year?"

Elle gave a small laugh and shook her head. She didn't even know where to start. "I found a lot of things out about my life after you left. Things I didn't even think could happen in real life."

She dove in to the story of how she had found Brooke's letters in her basement, how Larry suddenly died of a heart attack, how Elle ran from Los Angeles and found Brooke in Tree Hill.

"Shit, so…," Moe wrinkled her brow, lighting a cigarette. "The lady that took care of you and your mom had been writing you letters, and gramps hid them from you. You find them, he croaks, you leave?"

"Basically, yeah," Elle nodded.

"Damn. You're more of a badass than I thought." Moe took a drag, blowing the smoke out of her nose without flinching.

Elle continued to tell Moe how she began to get situated in the town where her mother had grown up, how she began to bond with Brooke's family. Then she told Moe how she found out that her birth father had been living in Tree Hill that whole time, and she had found about him in a his own book. She told how she had been furious and hurt, but forgave them all just in time for Lucas himself to show up unexpectedly at the house, and how he hadn't ever known about Elle or Peyton's lies. She told about Lucas's wife Lindsey, how she was cold and off-putting, and how Elle was awkwardly trying to bond with her new sister and cousins. She told Moe about how she desperately wanted to get to know her father, but he didn't seem to want to get to know her.

"And what's the worst is everyone is always telling me how _awesome _Lucas is." Elle said, as Moe drained her third beer, "But if he's so great, then why isn't he trying to get to know me? Because I'm really starting to think he's just a cowardly asshole."

"Shit." Moe shook her head. "I don't know, but it sounds like he's just another example of parents who are shitheads. You know as well as I do that they're not exactly an uncommon breed."

"I know, I just don't want to believe that." Elle sighed. "How is it possible for both parents not to love you?"

"Because, kid, this world is nothing but a constant opportunity to get your ass kicked," Moe said, "People are all fighting to be happy. But too many times, someone's happiness depends on someone else. And when someone lets someone else down, the ones who can't be strong all crumble like fuckin' dominoes. You can't need anybody else in life, 'cause if you do, then you're only gonna end up fucked and disappointed."

Elle had forgotten about how Moe viewed life, how Moe's rough, 'survival of the fittest' philosophy had gotten Elle through the pain during her early teens. Since she had been in Tree Hill, Elle had once again began to forgive, hope, and believe in other people, but now, as she sat on this dingy sofa next to Moe, she couldn't help but question herself yet again. Moe had this ability, this power over Elle, to manipulate her feelings and thoughts and get her to believe what she believed. Elle didn't know why she always felt as though Moe's opinion about the world was so powerful, but she knew that Moe always influenced the way she thought about life.

After a few moments of silence, Elle stood up. "It's getting late, I should go find Hannah and Grace. I'll be back."

The house was a noisy and chaotic as ever, and Elle didn't know where the hell to begin searching. Luckily, she found them almost immediately, in the kitchen, next to a large tub of bright red liquid.

"Grace, Han," Elle called to them, "Let's go,"

Grace, who had a red solo cup in her hand, squealed at the sight of Elle. She dropped her cup on the floor, which turned out to be completely empty, before throwing herself at the blonde.

"HEYYYY, SIS!" She cried, her weight around Elle's torso causing both of them to teeter dangerously. Elle grabbed Grace's shoulders and held her up at arm's length.

"Grace…," Elle said, alarmed, "Are you drunk?"

"Noooo, goose!" Grace giggled furiously, "I only had the punch, just a few cups of punchy-punch…"

Elle looked up at Hannah who was downing the contents of a red solo cup of her own. She slammed the empty cup down on the counter before stumbling over to Grace and Elle.

"Whaddup, cousins!" Hannah slurred, "Gracie, you're lookin' a lil crazy,"

Grace and Hannah both burst into a fit of giggles as Elle inwardly began to panic.

"What the hell, guys, we have to go back to Tric like, _now!_" Elle cried, "And you guys are friggin wasted?! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Looks like we're in trouble," Hannah said, in a baby voice, causing another round of drunken giggling.

"But we only had some punch," Grace said, still leaning against Elle, "Just lots of yummy punch,"

"Seriously?! That's not _punch, _Grace!" Elle groaned, "That's jungle juice! There's like a shit-ton of liquor in that!"

"Whoopsies," Hannah said, "We had lots of Jungle-y punchy punch,"

"Hannah, give me your phone," Elle demanded, as Hannah slowly reached into the back pocket of her jeans.

"Lookie what I've got," she said, dangling it in the air, in front of Elle. "Ya want it?"

"Cut it out, Han!" Elle snatched the phone out of Hannah's hand, flipping it open. Her stomach dropped when she saw that Hannah had 5 missed calls from Jamie on her phone. Shit. They were already in trouble. Hannah's phone vibrated in Elle's hand as a small envelope appeared on the screen. Elle opened the text message as her heart began to pound in her chest. It was from Jamie.

**Concert's over! Where the hell RU? **

Shit. So much for being back in time. She needed to get them out _now. _What the hell was wrong with them? Had they really been so stupid to think that there would be _punch _at a party like this?!

"Come on, guys," with Hannah on one arm and Grace on the other, Elle stumbled through the crowd of people to the couch where she had been sitting with Moe only five minutes earlier. Moe was no longer seated on the ratty cushions, and was nowhere in sight. Swearing, Elle looked wildly around the room before dragging Hannah and Grace out to the Mystery Machine, praying that they would stay there.

"Okay, I'm going to run back inside," Elle said slowly, as Grace and Hannah leaned against the van, "You guys _stay here _okay? Don't go _anywhere_. I mean it."

She didn't stay to listen to their drunken replies before she turned and sprinted back inside, looking for Moe all over the house. After not finding her anywhere downstairs, Elle began to panic as she climbed the stairs up to the second story.

Bursting through the first door on the left, Elle felt a small pang of relief when she saw Moe seated on the bed, along with Hoagie and a few other unfamiliar faces.

"Whoa, Elle-bell," Moe said, "You're gonna give somebody a heart attack with an entrance like that."

"I need to get Grace and Hannah back to Tric like _now!_" Elle said, not bothering to mask the panic in her voice.

"Good fuckin' luck findin' a ride," Moe shook her head. "We aren't ready to go yet, dude."

"I thought you'd get us back!" Elle cried, her mouth falling open.

"I didn't plan on doing two lines of coke just now!" Moe said, holding up a rolled dollar bill. "Sorry, Elle-bell!"

"I need to get them home!" Elle was freaking out, her voice growing more and more high pitched. "What the hell am I supposed to do!?"

"Hell if I know." Moe said, shrugging. "You sound like you need a fuckin' hit. It's been fuckin' forever since we've done this together, c'mon, Elle-bell."

"Give me your keys," Elle said desperately, holding out her hand. "Please! I have to take them home!"

"Alright, alright," Moe tossed her keychain over to Elle, "You need to lighten the fuck up, my friend."

Elle didn't answer as she raced through the crowded house, breathing heavily by the time she reached the Mystery Machine again. By the grace of God, Hannah and Grace were both still leaned against the van, right where she had left them. She felt Hannah's phone vibrate in her hand again- another text from Jamie.

**Mom is blowing up my phone! This isn't funny, Han! **

Closing her eyes momentarily, Elle took a deep breath before throwing the door open, helping the two drunken girls inside. She had known that this was a bad idea all along! Why hadn't she said anything when she had the chance? Why didn't she try and prevent it?

Elle sped down the street as she continued to panic. She hated herself for how she was a completely different person around her old friends, how she was still that broken little girl looking for guidance when she was around them.

She had been overjoyed when she was reunited with all of them again, not knowing why she had previously felt so anxious. But now, as Elle raced to get back to Tric, she knew exactly why she had been feeling so anxious about the possibility of meeting up with her old friends again. She feared her two worlds coming together not because of them, but because of herself. Elle from Los Angeles was nothing like Elle from Tree Hill, and when the worlds were kept separate, she was able to forget about who she used to be in LA. But when the worlds were forced together, Elle's two lives would be forced to mold into one, big, explosive mess.

She saw them all standing there before she had even pulled into the parking lot- The silhouettes of Matt, Haley, Nathan and Jamie, all gathered around the Scott's Range Rover in which they had all arrived in.

Elle's stomach began to do flip-flops as she pulled up next to them, jumping out of the Mystery Machine and running around the side to open the door.

"What the hell is going on?!" Haley thundered, "Whose car is this?!"

"I can explain everything," Elle said, "Look, we went to a party with the band, and-,"

"Excuse me?" Haley's eyebrows shot up, her tone livid. "A party? You took two underage girls to a rocker party, you being underage yourself?!"

"Where are they?" Nathan cut in, sounding extremely displeased himself. It was scary hearing calm, kind Nathan speaking to her with such anger in his voice. Elle's knees began to shake.

"They're in the van, um, they kind of-," Elle said slowly, as Jamie, Nathan and Haley climbed into the back of the Mystery Machine.

"Oh, my god, they're drunk!" Haley cried, "Nathan, help me sit her up,"

The Scotts emerged from the van, Jamie holding Grace against him, as Nathan carried a sleeping Hannah to the Range Rover. Before Haley could say anything else, another car pulled into the parking lot. Lindsey Scott emerged from the interior, worry etched across every line in her face.

"You found them?!" She cried, racing over to Haley, "What happened, where were they?!"

"Elle, Grace and Hannah thought it would be a good idea to ditch the concert for a _rocker party _with one of the bands." Haley replied, coolly, as Lindsey's mouth dropped.

"What? A party?" Lindsey gasped, "What are you talking about? Grace doesn't _party!_"

"Well, she did tonight," Jamie said, as Lindsey turned to face him, gasping again at the sight of her daughter.

"Oh, my god! Grace!" Lindsey rushed over to her daughter, "Sweetie, are you okay?"

"She's fine!" Elle assured all of them, "They both are! They're just drunk."

"Oh, sure, my _fifteen year old _gets wasted at a rocker party and she's _okay?_" Lindsey rounded on Elle, "I've got news for you, taking my daughter to a party isn't a good way to bond! What the HELL were you thinking?!"

"We _all _wanted to go!" Elle said, "I didn't _take _them anywhere! I was just going to catch up with an old friend, and we all knew that we were coming back! I had _no _idea that Grace and Hannah would be drinking!"

"So, you took them to this party and you didn't even watch them?!" Lindsey cried.

"I wasn't going to babysit them like four-year-olds!" Elle said defensively, "I thought they'd have more sense than-,"

"You watch your mouth." Lindsey cut her off. "You may be my husband's daughter, but this is not okay."

Before Elle could say another word, Lindsey grabbed Grace and slowly walked her to the car, getting her seated before climbing back into the driver's seat and speeding away.

Elle glanced up at Matt, but he wouldn't meet her eyes she slunk into the Range Rover, Jamie letting his sister rest her head in his lap. Nathan's expression was stoic as he took the wheel, but Haley couldn't help but voice her indignation once again.

"I still can't believe you three thought that this would be okay!" she scolded, "What the hell was running through your mind when you decided to let a fourteen and fifteen year old go to a place like that?!"

"But it wasn't my fault! Elle said, "I'm sorry that I led them into that kind of environment, but I can't be held responsible for them choosing to drink or not!"

"Oh don't worry; they will be punished for their poor judgment." Haley replied coldly, "But we really aren't okay with your influence."

The ride back to Brooke's was silent, as Elle chewed on her bottom lip. Yes, she shouldn't have let the trip to the party happen, but _come on! _ There was no way that this was entirely her fault! _Grace_ and _Hannah_ were the ones who got drunk, not her! Why was _she _being blamed for orchestrating this whole ordeal? Why couldn't they just listen to her side of the story?

Brooke's beach house was dark as they pulled into the driveway, Elle knew that Brooke, Julian, Avery and Joey were all probably asleep. Matt climbed out, bidding goodbyes to Jamie, Nathan and Haley, as Elle unbuckled her seatbelt, her stomach in more knots than ever.

"I'm sorry," she said lamely, before climbing out after Matt. They watched the Range Rover disappear down the street before Elle looked back up at him again. "Matt, please say something to me,"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Matt asked. Elle frowned. She thought that of all people, at least Matt would be on her side about this.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't under the impression that I'd been dubbed 'babysitter' for the night," Elle spat, growing more frustrated.

"It's not the same now, Elle! You're in the family! When we all go out together, we look out for each other. _Especially_ for Grace and Hannah. They're young and stupid. I know that you don't really understand the family thing because you never had one, but…," he trailed off, realizing what he had just said.

"Because I never had one? Are you kidding me?" Elle asked, stung, as Matt opened his mouth to try and save face. "Jackass."

She pushed past him, stomping up the steps of the porch, her shoulders sagging with hurt and emotion. Without a backward glance, she immediately closed the front door as stepped inside, not knowing if Matt was directly behind her or not.

Elle had asked him what would happen if her dream and her nightmare were to collide, and he hadn't been able to answer. But now, Elle knew that a collision such as this would result in nothing but an explosion.

* * *

**Yes, that was incredibly long! And all one long scene!!! I think that's a first for me! :) The next few chapters are going to be rather dark, so buckle up, everyone, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!!!! But the hope of Lucas/Elle is still on the horizon!!!! **

**Anyway, PLEASE let me know what you think! Angry Parents, the return of Moe, Elle feeling unjustified...any thoughts??? Don't hesitate to let me know what you're thinking!!! :) Thanks everyone, take care!!! !!!! **

**Love, Brennan :) **


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed!! This chapter is DEFINITELY my longest yet. WHEW :) It's kind of angsty, get excited. **

* * *

People often find it easy to blame others for their problems, whether that be the case or not. Even if we are truly the ones at fault, we often go out of our way to justify ourselves, often making excuses and pointing fingers at other people. Perhaps it's just easier that way; to resent someone else for our troubles, rather than experiencing that painful, heart-wrenching resentment toward ourselves.

The hot July sun beat down on their heads as they silently made their way up to the rivercourt, the light breeze causing Elle's hair to billow behind her like long, curly kite tails.

After the events of the previous evening, Elle was rather reluctant to accompany Matt when he invited her to take a walk with him after breakfast. But, seeing as how Brooke obviously hadn't yet received angry phone calls from Haley or Lindsey, Elle figured that it would probably be a good idea to get out of the house before the phone rang- which, Elle knew, it undoubtedly would.

Elle hadn't spoken to Matt since she had stormed away from him after the Scotts had dropped them off last night-- and it was extremely awkward walking with him now, in silence, neither of them wanting to be the first to bring up their unresolved conflict.

Thoughts swirled around in her head like thousands of little tornadoes, while a variety of emotions clashed in her chest, making her feel uneasy and ornery. She was still absolutely indignant about how the adults had spoken to her in the parking lot, how they hadn't asked questions, but immediately jumped to conclusions and made accusations. The shock of running into Moe and the band at Tric had not worn off either, and Elle still could hardly believe that she had interacted with all of them last night. Then there was Lucas, who probably wouldn't be any more willing to get to know her after what had happened with Grace, and along with everything else, Elle's never-ending belief that if Peyton hadn't killed herself, none of this would have even happened in the first place. Elle's head was a mess; her emotions going haywire, creating a ferocious, crackling lightning storm in her heart.

They had reached the rivercourt; Matt kicking a pebble across the concrete, as Elle shifted on her feet.

"I didn't mean what I said last night," Matt finally offered, not being able to take the silence any longer, "about your family, I mean."

"I know." Elle said quietly, her eyes fixed on the water, watching the boats slowly pass. She didn't feel like talking about this with him. "It's okay."

"But…," Matt said slowly, as though he was trying to search for the right way to word his thoughts, "Last night, what you guys did…it wasn't okay."

"I know." Elle said again, flatly. "We shouldn't have gone."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." Matt nodded. "What the heck, Elle? What was going on with you last night?"

Elle clenched her jaw. "You're blaming me for this too?"

"No, I'm-,"

"This is crap!" Elle exploded, failing to gain control over her emotions, "I'm so _tired _of everyone just jumping to the conclusion that Grace and Hannah were SO completely clueless and innocent when big, bad, nasty Elle _dragged_ them to a party against their will, and then _forced _drinks down their throats only to take them back to Tric an hour later! That makes no fucking sense, Matt!"

"That's not what they're saying, Elle." Matt sighed. "We all know that you didn't make them go anywhere."

"Then why the hell did they treat me like that last night?!" Elle cried, "They were all talking to me like I was the bad guy and Grace and Hannah didn't do anything wrong! Haley said that I _influenced _them!"

"They're parents. Their kids had gone into a dangerous environment, and they didn't like that." Matt said, reasonably, "They had every right to be pissed."

"But they were pissed at _me!_" Elle pointed a finger into her chest.

"Yeah, of course they are! They're pissed at you, but they're also pissed at Grace and Hannah too." While Elle's voice grew more frantic, Matt's remained level and calm. "Yes, it wasn't entirely your fault, but you _were_ still at fault. All of you were, and they have every right to be pissed about that."

"Okay, fine, Matt, but they all assumed that _I _was the one who led them all there and got them wasted!" Elle threw her hands in the air, "They were all like '_what were you thinking?' _ or _'we're not happy with your influence' _ or _'why weren't you watching them?', _ and that's NOT FAIR! It was entirely consensual, they really wanted to go! Sure, I didn't do anything to stop it, but I did NOT instigate this. _That's _what I'm pissed about."

"I know, it's not fair, but-,"

"But what?" Elle interrupted, "But they don't know that I was raised differently? Is that it? Because I'm pretty sure they _do _know that, Matt. And they were all super quick to assume that too, because it seemed like a foolproof way to make it entirely my fault! You know, since I _'don't really understand the family thing because I never had one'_. You said so yourself!"

"Elle, stop it." Matt frowned. "You're pissed off, and I get that. But don't say things like that; don't put words in my mouth."

"You said it last night!" Elle fired back, "You said I had never had a family, blah, blah, _blah_, remember?!"

"I told you that I didn't mean it! I said I was sorry!" Matt said, exasperatedly, "You know I would never say something like that to you and mean it!"

"Well _I _said I was sorry last night, but that, apparently, isn't worth shit!" Elle shouted.

"Elle, come on, you're being unreasonable!"

"Unreasonable?! _I'm_ being unreasonable?!"

"Yeah, Elle, you are." Matt said sternly, "And I thought that you didn't even want to see your old friends last night! If I remember correctly, you couldn't even be in the same room as them! And then all of a sudden you're running off to a party with them?! I don't understand that, Elle!"

"What, do you think I'm making that up? Did I just run out of the room last night for attention? To put on a show?" Elle retorted, seething.

"No, that's not what I mean!" Matt groaned, "I just don't see how you went from being completely on edge about being in the same _building _as them to jumping in a car with them and running off to a party! I don't get it!"

"I don't know, okay?!" Elle cried, "I don't know! We ran into each other, and it was _nice _seeing them again; seeing familiar faces after weeks of meeting strange new people and feeling lost! It was like I belonged again, like I was a part of something again!"

"You belong here, too, Elle!" Matt said, "You belong with us, with Brooke and Julian and Joey and Avery and me! Do you not feel that like I do?"

"No, I do, I do, It's…," Elle paused, for her voice had begun to shake. "It's like I'm living two lives, and I'm not sure which is real, and it's confusing as hell! I'm not the same person when I'm with them, when I'm living that other life! And when I ran into them here, in _this _life, I didn't know who to be or how to act at all! But when I was with them, I forgot how much easier it was to just…_be_. It was easier not to feel pain in that life."

"I thought you said that you didn't want to go back to that lifestyle," Matt shook his head, "I thought that you said it was a nightmare. You keep contradicting yourself."

"Because I'm _confused_!" Elle burst out, "Do you get that?! I'm so confused all the damn time, and I never know how to feel about _anything _anymore! I love it here, and I love this life, but _everything_ in this damn town is connected to Peyton! I hear about her all the time, and see her face in pictures, and I _hate it_. It hurts to hear about my mother, Matt!"

"I understand, Elle, I-,"

"No!" Elle cut him off, her voice strained. "You _don't _understand! YOUR parents died in a car accident, Matt! It was an accident! _My _mom's death was intentional! She _wanted_ to die! It's not the same! You don't know how that feels! You _DON'T _understand!"

Elle took a deep breath, swallowing the emotional lump that had formed in her throat. "I saw my friends last night, and I had forgotten that…when I'm with them, I'm not associated with my mother. Most of them didn't even know about it. I was a part of something that had absolutely NO connection to Peyton, and I forgot how that felt! And it felt great! It was like she had never even died at all. Seeing them last night reminded me of how it felt to be _normal. _To just be normal and not be the girl whose mother committed suicide!"

"Elle," Matt said sadly, taking a step toward her. Elle stepped backward.

"And I hate that I'm being penalized for that! I hate that _I _am being blamed for all of the poor decisions that were made last night!" She continued, her voice trembling again, "because that's bullshit! It's easier for them to blame the girl whose mom killed herself than blame their two innocent, _perfect _daughters!"

"Elle, you know that they're not blaming you completely," Matt sighed, not wanting to get back in to this, "Once they get the story straight, everything will work itself out. You'll see."

"It's not about me getting into trouble or not! That's not what I care about!" Elle cried, her voice rising again, "I'm just tired of all this! I'm sick of being seen as the troubled girl with the suicidal mother. I'm sick of all of them thinking that I'm this bad, terrible person because I wasn't raised right! I hate that I'm going to have to carry my mother's death around with me like a scarlet letter for the rest of my life!"

Elle's voice shook terribly as angry, indignant tears filled her eyes. "And that's something you'll never be able to understand."

Without waiting for Matt to voice a response, Elle turned and began walking down the hill and back toward town, not wanting Matt to see the unshed tears that were now beginning to cloud her vision.

"Elle!" she heard him yell after her, but Elle only increased her pace as he called after her again, his voice sounding more distant with each time he called her name.

Blinking back the tears she couldn't let fall, Elle raced blindly through town, her heart constricting painfully. If her mother hadn't been sick, she probably would have had a normal childhood with rules and morals and sit-down dinners. If her mother hadn't been sick, Haley, Nathan and Lindsey would probably have hesitated before jumping to conclusions. Actually, if her mother hadn't been sick, Elle probably wouldn't have even had to deal with any of this in the first place. It always seemed to come back to Peyton. No matter what happened, no matter what kind of pain she felt, it always came right back down to Peyton.

Turning a corner, Elle was brought out of her fog as she walked smack into a large torso. Stumbling backward several steps, she felt a pair of strong arms reach out and steady her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, dropping his arms, "I didn't see you."

Elle looked up through the mess of curls that had fallen in her face, and her stomach leapt anxiously when she realized that she was standing a mere two feet apart from none other than Lucas Scott.

Lucas's eyes widened as he realized just whom he had bumped in to, and Elle nervously brushed the hair out of her eyes.

"Hi," she whispered, her voice thin.

"Hi," he said back, sounding as nervous as Elle.

They stood there for several moments, Elle staring at him, and Lucas gazing back at her- their identical blue eyes locked. Since she had seen him for the first time, Elle had spotted several pictures of him scattered throughout Brooke's house, and would often find herself sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to go look at them. But looking at old photographs of her father was nothing compared to looking at him directly in the face.

She realized that she not only had his eyes, but his skin tone as well. It was a small, insignificant thing, but Elle couldn't help but feel extremely affected by the fact that she had her father's skin.

"I'm sorry I ran into you," She said awkwardly, for Lucas still looked extremely transfixed by her presence. "But, um, I'm glad I did…,"

"It's okay," he finally replied, running a hand down the back of his head, resting it on his neck. "I'm sorry, I've been…preoccupied…this week."

"Yeah, I've…uh…been beginning to think you like fled the country or something." Elle said slowly. It was easier than saying '_I've been beginning to think you don't want anything to do with me.'_

"I'm sorry." Lucas said again. "I'm not trying to avoid you, I just…,"

"Yeah. It's been a lot to take in…," Elle tried to come off as reasonable, mature. "I was just as surprised as you. Believe me."

Lucas nodded. "It's unreal."

"Totally." Elle breathed. They were having a conversation. She was having a conversation with her father. A small glimmer of hope flickered in her heart. Maybe this was finally the start of something.

Lucas's eyes suddenly filled with sadness as he gave Elle a small smile. "You talk like her. Not your voice…but the way you stress your words and form your sentences."

Elle chewed on the inside of her cheek. She hated being compared to Peyton. But Lucas didn't put on a goofy smile or fake a positive voice like everyone else when he said this; he sounded sorrowful and full of regret. Elle appreciated that; for she often felt those exact emotions when anyone pointed out her resemblance to Peyton. It was nice to see that Lucas understood how sad it was that all that was left of Peyton were the similar qualities she had shared with her daughter.

"Listen, Elle," Lucas shook his head slowly, "I really want to get to know you. I want to have a relationship with you. But…," he paused. "But I don't know if I'm ready to do that yet."

It was strange hearing him say her name, another small detail that shouldn't have meant anything. Her eyes widened in hurt and confusion as she processed his words. "What do you mean?"

"I'm…I'm sorting things out with my wife, and…Grace…and I just…," he sighed, "I need more time to…deal with this before I can start trying to have a relationship with you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Oh." Elle blinked, trying to swallow yet another lump that had formed in her throat. She didn't even bother attempting to mask the disappointment in her eyes. It was as though he had just stomped on her chest, extinguishing any hopeful feelings that had momentarily made her feel a little bit better.

He made to extend one of his arms, as though to reach out toward her, but stopped himself, letting his arm fall limply to his side. Sadness was still etched in every line on his face as he took a step backward.

"I'm so sorry," he said again, before turning and hastily disappearing down the street.

Elle stood there on the street corner for a few minutes, furiously trying to process what had just happened. Her heart had sunk so far down that it seemed to rest on the top of her stomach.

He might as well have smacked her across the face. Why did he feel that way? Sure, the news had shocked her too, but it had only made her want to get to know him—not hide away and '_deal _with it'. Why didn't he want to know her? Why didn't he _want _her?

Elle experienced a brief kick to the gut as she momentarily succumbed to the feelings of self-loathing. Was she not worth it to him? He already _had _a family, after all, and had said that he needed to tend to them first. Was Elle merely resting on Lucas Scott's backburner? Could he not see how _badly _she wanted him, how much she ached for her parent to love her? Hell, forget love, even just stand to be around. It became apparent to Elle that the people she felt as though she needed—Peyton, Moe, Lucas…never seemed to need her back. And _that _felt worse than anything. Did she not deserve to feel wanted? A parent's love for their child was supposed to be unconditional. But Lucas had walked away from her, just like Peyton had over five years ago. Was she _really _that unlovable?

_No, _Elle told herself. This was not her fault. She did nothing wrong. If Peyton hadn't kept Elle and Lucas from each other in the first place, then neither of them would have been in this situation. If Lucas had known her all along, then maybe Elle would have spent her childhood growing up in a stable home…even if her parents weren't together. She just would have been like any normal kid with divorced parents. Maybe she would have been able to experience a father's unconditional love.

But, like always, Peyton had ruined everything. She had messed up so many lives and shattered so many relationships. It always came back down to Peyton.

Her chest felt heavy as she slowly entered the house, wanting to do nothing but go straight up to her bed, burrow underneath the covers and sleep all of this off. To just get away from all the things that had happened in the last 24 hours.

But, as though all of these things weren't enough, Brooke's voice beckoned to her from in the kitchen before Elle had even reached the staircase. Assuming that Brooke had indeed received the dreaded phone call while Elle had been gone, she inhaled slowly, slinking into the kitchen. The last thing she wanted right now was to receive _another _stern talking-to about everything she had done wrong; not after the one Matt had given her earlier, and _especially _not after her encounter with Lucas.

"I know what you're going to say," Elle said flatly, before Brooke could speak, "I know what we did was wrong."

"It was wrong." Brooke said, but her voice was not stern like everyone else's had been. "And I know you know that. So did Haley and Lindsey when they both called me this morning."

Elle sighed. She was suddenly so exhausted. "Look, I know that it seems like it was all my idea, but-,"

"Luckily, I was told that Grace woke up this morning and said that going to the party hadn't been your idea, but hers." Brooke interrupted, "Grace said that you had known the band from LA, and got invited to go to the party with them, but you were uncertain. Grace was the one who goaded everyone in going. Grace also said that they didn't know that they were drinking liquor in that juice, and that you were the one who got them out of there safely."

Elle felt a wave of gratitude toward Grace, and she hated to say it…but she was completely taken aback that the fifteen year old had come to her defense. Maybe Grace wasn't so bad after all.

"Wow," Elle said, still feeling awful, despite this sudden justification. "They believed her, right?"

"I know that they took a lot of their anger out on you last night," Brooke said, "but it's hard for a parent to believe the worst in their child when there is-,"

"A more stereotypical suspect?" Elle scoffed.

"-someone else to point the finger at." Brooke continued. "And I also get that you were excited about running into your old friends. I get that you wanted to go catch up with them. But that doesn't excuse the fact that what happened last night wasn't okay. Not when Grace and Hannah were with you. You're eighteen, they're not. I'm not blaming you for what they did, but you're the oldest, and they were with you. That's how it works here, Elle, and I know that doesn't seem fair, but that's just how it is when you have to look out for your family."

If Elle hadn't been so emotionally drained, she probably would have gotten defensive again. But instead, she just nodded, forcing her eyes to look genuinely apologetic. "I know. And I'm sorry, Brooke. It won't happen again. Ever."

"Thank you, sweetheart." Brooke gave a small smile, brushing her hand against Elle's cheek. "Thank you for being so mature about this."

Elle stretched her lips into a smile, or at least, the closest thing to a smile. "Of course."

Brooke brushed her hand against Elle's face once more before briskly walking over to the counter and grabbing her purse before making her way into the living room. "Well, I'm taking Joey over to a friend's house, and then running a few errands. Would you mind watching Avery for the afternoon?"

Elle followed Brooke into the living room, where Joey and Avery sat on the couch, transfixed by a cartoon on TV. Elle just wanted to go to sleep. She didn't want to do anything else but escape from the conscious world.

"Sure," She found herself saying anyway. Well, at least Avery wouldn't scold her about going to a party or tell her that she didn't want to get to know her.

"Awesome, thank you," Brooke said, "I shouldn't be gone too long, but if I'm not back by seven then you can order pizza or something. Where's Matt today?"

"Oh, um…," Elle said, not wanting to bring up anything that had gone on while she was out, "I think he's at the rivercourt. At least he was the last time I saw him."

"Of course, I should have known he'd be playing basketball." Brooke said airily, before turning to Joey, motioning a hand at him. "Joey, let's go, bud."

"Awesome!" Joey cried, energetic as ever, jumping off of the couch and racing into the foyer.

"Ave, sweetie," Brooke said to her daughter, "Elle's going to play with you all afternoon! Doesn't that sound fun, babygirl?"

"Can we play outside?" Avery asked.

"Of course, babe," Brooke kissed the little girl on the top of her head, "But you have to do what Elle says, okay? She's in charge."

"Okay, mommy." Avery smiled brightly. Brooke kissed Avery once more before bidding Elle goodbye, exiting the house with a very excited Joey.

Elle looked down at little Avery, who had fixed her gaze back to the television. It was kind of funny, Elle realized, that this was the first time she had ever babysat a child. Sure, she had spent a great amount of time tending to an incompetently depressed Peyton over the years, but she had never watched somebody else's kid.

Elle remembered how badly she used to want to babysit children during her preteen years, back when all of her cheerleading friends were starting to make money from all of the kids they watched. She had asked Larry if she could start babysitting too, like all of her friends, but he said that it would have been too much of a handful—watching Peyton was basically a babysitting job in and of itself.

That was just another thing, Elle inwardly scoffed, that her mother had screwed up.

After Avery grew tired of watching cartoons, Elle brought her outside, where she watched the little girl kick a foam soccer ball around in the front yard.

"Come play with me, Elle!" Avery grinned, her dark, almond eyes shining happily.

Elle smiled back, meeting Avery down in the grass. As they passed the ball back and forth with their feet, Elle couldn't help but wonder about Avery. The little girl had been adopted as a baby, with absolutely no memory of her birth parents or her life in China. She probably wouldn't ever meet her birth parents, let alone know much about them. Elle wondered if that would ever affect Avery. Would it eat her up inside, that undying, unquenchable thirst to gain knowledge about where she came from? Would she spend years resenting the family that gave her up for adoption?

Avery seemed pretty damn happy right now, but of course, she was barely four years old. Would she begin to wonder more and more about her life as she got older, or would she be satisfied with just knowing that she had a beautiful, loving adopted family, with two other brothers who had also been adopted? Would that be enough for someone who had never known their family?

Elle supposed that she really couldn't relate, because though their situations were very similar, they differed substantially. Avery hadn't every dealt with her birthparents, so there was little room for her to pass judgment about them, other than the fact that they gave her up. Avery was also going to grow up in a stable home with loving parents, canceling out that desire for a parent's love.

Elle wondered what would have happened if she had just been given up for adoption. Would she resent Peyton the same way she resented her now? Would she thank Peyton for giving her a chance at a better life? There was no way to ever know…she could only wonder.

A loud, rumbling sound brought Elle back down to earth. She glanced up to see none other than the Mystery Machine ascending toward them from up the street.

"Avery, you just play right here, okay?" Elle said to the little girl, as Moe's van pulled into the driveway.

Avery obliged, kicking the ball around in a small circle where she stood, as Elle made her way over to the Mystery Machine. Moe hopped down out of the driver's seat.

"How on earth did you find me here?" Elle asked, her mouth agape.

"Same way I found the place where you dumped my van last night." Moe raised an eyebrow, "With the keys still in the ignition and everything."

Elle felt a pang of guilt at that. She completely forgot that Moe had given Elle permission to use her car to take Grace and Hannah back to Tric last night. "Oh…yeah. I'm sorry, Moe."

"Lucky for you," Moe continued, grinning slightly, "I was too smacked off my ass to give a shit about it."

"Yeah. I _really_ lucked out." Elle snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Someone's livin' large." Moe looked up, noting Brooke's ritzy beach house. "Shit, Elle-bell, you got it fuckin' _made _here!"

"It is pretty nice." Elle nodded. "It's like three times the size of my house in LA. I never _ever _saw myself staying in a place like this."

"Yeah, I feel privileged just standing in the damn driveway." Moe said, before changing the subject. "So I assume your mini-me's made it home safely last night?"

"Yeah, if you call 'wasted of their asses' safe." Elle shook her head. "We never should have gone with you last night."

"Shit happens." Moe shrugged. "You okay, though?"

"No." Elle bit her lip. "Not really."

She hadn't been able to tell Brooke about her run-in with Lucas earlier, because she knew that Brooke probably would have done something about it. But Moe…talking to Moe was different. She never received pity from Moe; instead she usually got some twisted version of a pep-talk on crack. When Elle had been younger, when the pain of Peyton's death was more raw, Moe often told her to be strong, not to cry, not to show pain. She wouldn't give Elle a hug or a warm talk, but she would always listen, and try to turn the situation around.

"What's goin' on in your head, Elle-bell?" Moe asked, leaning against the van.

"Nothing. Everything." Elle sighed. She told Moe about how she had been blamed last night, about how she was tired of feeling misunderstood. She told Moe about her explosion at Matt on the rivercourt, and her run-in with Lucas.

"So the prodigal father returns?" Moe raised her eyebrows.

"He said he needed to 'sort things out' before he could get to know me." Elle shook her head. "It killed me. It killed me, but I don't even know who to be mad at about it."

"Like I said, dude, we both know that parents can be selfish shitheads." Moe replied, "But don't go lookin' for someone to blame. Just accepted the shitty situation for what it is: shit. Accept it and move on. Don't wallow in self-pity and feel bad about it all day. Just accept that it's a fuckin' shitty situation, and you're just gonna have to deal with other people's bullshit."

"It's not that simple." Elle said, "I can't get past the fact that I'm _dying _for him to know me. And he doesn't see that."

"It's because he's selfish." Moe said, "He's scared and selfish, and _you _are better than that. Don't be brought down by his poisonous cowardly shit. You are a warrior. You're strong, and you don't need anybody. You don't need their shit."

Elle nodded, still feeling awful. Moe clapped Elle on the shoulder and shoved something into her hand. Elle did not need to look down to know what it was, and her stomach lurched.

"Moe-,"

"Just take it, kiddo. Might make you feel better." Moe gave her a grin before climbing back into the Mystery Machine. "I'll be in town for a few more days, so maybe I'll see ya around."

Elle watched in silence as Moe backed out of the driveway, the loud rumble of the van disappearing long after it rounded the corner. She looked down at her palm, where a large blunt rested atop her skin.

She had to get rid of this before anyone saw it. If Brooke or anyone else found this joint in her possession…Elle knew that there'd be hell to pay. Why had Moe given this to her in the first place? Did she really expect Elle to smoke it to feel better?

But she _did_ feel terrible. She felt as though everything in the world was suddenly piling up on her chest, and she was slowly, painfully, suffocating. Everything that had happened in the last 24 hours had been almost too much to deal with, especially the encounter with Lucas, and Elle felt as though she was going to explode with all of the emotions that were bubbling around in her heart. She felt lost, lost, alone, and unsure. She didn't know what to do about anything.

But…she had to get rid of this joint. And the best way to get rid of a joint is to smoke it…right? Maybe of she just smoked it outside, right here, while Avery played off in the grass, nobody would even notice. She could be sober by the time Brooke got home. Even if she wasn't, she was pretty damn good at _acting_ sober when she needed to—she had gone home stoned _SO _many times over the years, and Larry had never noticed a thing.

Why the hell not? It's not like she was going anywhere…she was just going to sit here and watch Avery all afternoon. And Avery surely wouldn't be able to tell if Elle was high or not. It was a foolproof idea. Elle had forgotten how much easier life was after a good smoke. She never felt pain when she was high.

"Avery," Elle said, beckoning the little girl to the porch, "let's go inside, okay?"

Avery made a face, but scampered over to Elle nonetheless. Elle led Avery back inside and plopped her back on the couch in the living room, just as an episode of _Spongebob _came on TV.

"I'm going to run outside for a sec," Elle said to her, "can you stay here for me, Ave?"

Avery nodded, her eyes glued to the television once more. Feeling satisfied with herself, Elle grabbed her purse from the kitchen, retrieving the lighter that she hadn't used in weeks. She stepped out onto the back porch, lit the blunt, and inhaled, letting the marijuana fill her lungs.

Elle couldn't help but feel happily nostalgic at the smell of the weed. It had been so long since she had smoked. It was so nice. She was about to feel a hell of a lot better.

After the blunt had been smoked, Elle let herself air out before returning back inside, seating herself down next to Avery.

Her head swayed and her eyes felt heavy and sunken. Everything was suddenly moving in slow motion; a happy, mellowed-out slow motion. It was as though she was seeing life through a series of stop-motion clips being slowed down. But most importantly of all, she didn't feel sad anymore.

"Can we go back outside?" Avery turned to her, blissfully unaware of the current state Elle was in.

Elle grinned happily, her eyes narrow slits. "Of course, Avey-baby!"

Elle followed Avery back out into the front yard, but only made it to the bottom of the porch before seating herself down on the step. Avery returned to her spot in the grass, where she began kicking her little ball around again.

Everything that had upset her earlier now seemed unimportant. She felt as though she didn't have a care in the world, this suddenly warm, pleasant world. Why on earth had she been upset earlier? There was nothing to be upset about! Not when there was blue sky, and green grass and even little ants on the pavement. Who cares about the shit that had her so worked up earlier…there were so many other things to focus on now. Her concerns caused by the events of that morning had now seemed like frivolous, silly things to worry about.

Why should she give a fuck about Lucas? It was much more pleasant to follow the little line of ants crawling along the sidewalk near her feet. Ants were suddenly _so _fascinating, with their little legs and bodies…why hadn't she appreciated ants before? She wanted stick her leg out and step on one…but her leg wouldn't move. It just wanted to stay right where it was. But that was okay. It was just easier to follow everything with her eyes anyway.

If Lucas was an ant, Elle would squash him. She would squash Peyton too. Why couldn't life just be that easy? Why did people have to feel things like emotions and pain? A life with no emotion sounded magical; to live without having to deal with the pain and anxiety and all the other things emotions caused.

Not that she was feeling anything remotely bad at the moment. On the contrary, Elle was feeling pretty damn good right now, still under this pleasant haze. Who cares about Lucas anyway? Who cares about all the shit that had happened last night and today? If she had known this morning that she would be feeling this good right now, then she probably wouldn't have bothered to get upset at all today.

Fuck Lucas, fuck Matt, fuck Peyton. It was all whatever…who the hell cares? Especially when there were much more interesting things to think about…like why those leaves on the tree in the yard were green. Why was green _called _green, anyway? It was such a strange word. What if the color green had been named something like _red _or _yellow_ instead? Who the hell thought of the names for words in the first place? _Green, green, green, green._ What a strange word.

Elle heard a car pulling into the driveway, but by the time she had finally decided to turn her head in that direction, Brooke was already halfway up the walk, striding closer to the porch, a bag of groceries in her hand.

"Where's Avery?" Brooke asked, stopping in front of Elle, frowning slightly.

"She's…," Elle looked over to where Avery had been playing ball, but Avery had vanished from where she had just been only a few seconds ago. Or had it been longer than that? What time was it, anyway? How long had Elle been sitting on the porch like this? "She was just over there…,"

Brooke set the bag of groceries down on the porch and looked wildly around the yard. "Well where is she now?!"

"I…she was playing ball…and she was right there…," Elle said slowly, standing up. Wait…what was going on? "I just saw her. She was playing right there…,"

Brooke's neck immediately snapped in Elle's direction as the blonde stood. At one look into Elle's red, sunken eyes, Brooke eyes widened, then narrowed as her face contorted into a scowl. Elle didn't really know why Brooke looked so angry at the moment, especially when the world was so pleasantly mellow and enjoyable right now.

"Are you _high_?!" She hissed, grabbing Elle around the upper arm and yanking her closer.

"I…," Elle said slowly, trying to think of any response other that 'yes'. She didn't need to be sober to know that she had just dug herself into an extremely deep hole.

Brooke, however, did not need an answer to confirm her accusation. Her jaw was set in fury as she stepped into the grass, pulling Elle along by the arm. Shit, why was Brooke walking so fast? Elle suddenly felt clumsy and groggy as she unwillingly followed behind Brooke.

"Avery!?!" Brooke cried, as they rounded the corner to the back of the house. There was no reply as Brooke led Elle around the pool and up to the back porch, bursting through the door.

"Avery!?!" Brooke yelled again, more panicked this time, her raspy voice echoing through the empty house.

Brooke's hand still wrapped tightly around her arm, Elle felt herself being pulled through the house, until they were back out on the front porch again. The sudden shock of Avery's absence was causing Elle to sober up much faster than normal, horror rising in her chest as she slowly began to fully understand what was happening…and what she had just done.

"Where the hell is she?!" Brooke's voice was frantic as Elle's fog began to lift. "AVERY!"

Elle was growing more panicked as well. Shit. How long had she been sitting on the porch? Why hadn't she been watching Avery in the yard? Why the _fuck _had she smoked that joint in the first place?!? What the hell was she thinking?

"Brooke, I'm-," Elle tried to apologize, but Brooke cut her off.

"Oh, don't you even speak right now." Brooke growled, tightening her grip around Elle's arm as she glared at her with icy eyes.

They were down in the grass again; Brooke's ragged breaths turning into small whimpers. Elle could feel her pulse in her ears as she prayed, _willed, _for the little girl to be found. Shit…what had she done?

"AVERY! AVERY, WHERE ARE YOU?!" Brooke shouted, her voice tearing straight through Elle's heart.

People often find it easy to blame others for their problems, whether that be the case or not. Elle could have found a million ways to blame her mother for what was happening. She also could have blamed Moe for giving her the joint in the first place, or even Lucas for upsetting her.

But as Brooke held tightly onto her arm, screaming Avery's name, Elle could not think of anyone to blame but herself. She had just done a terrible thing…and there was nobody else to blame.

There was nobody else to blame as the sobering screech of car tires on asphalt filled her ears, followed by a scream, a thud… and then silence.

* * *

** I thought that it was about time I treated myself to a cliffhanger ;) Don't hate me too much! (a little bit is okay, haa)**

**Don't let my terrible stopping place keep you from reflecting about all that went on in this chapter; Was Elle overreacting with Matt? Was Lucas being a jerk? What about Brooke and Moe? How am I doing on capturing emotion? I'm really, really trying to make Elle's confusion as apparent and relatable as I can, but w can never know how others react to things like this. :) Let me know how you feel!!! **

**Like I said, these next few chapters are goign to be dark. Not a lot of happiness or comic relief, so please prepare yourselves :) Any predictions? And just an FYI for those who are hating Lucas after this chapter-- redemption IS my favorite word, so keep that in mind. :) **

**Leave me some love! (or flames, if that's how you're feeling!) Thanks, everyone!! Take care! **

**xo, Brennan :) **


	18. Chapter 18

**All of you are incredible :) I know I repeat myself at the beginning of every chapter, but wow, you guys continue to blow me away with your feedback. Thank you all so SO much. **

**lots and lots of angst for all you avid readers. Enjoy! **

* * *

Bishop Robert South once wrote, "Guilt upon the conscience, like rust upon iron, both defiles and consumes it, gnawing and creeping into it, as that does which at last eats out the very heart and substance of the metal."

In psychology, as well as in the English language, guilt is defined as an affective state in which one experiences conflict at having done something that one believes one should not have done. It is a well known, universal emotion, easy to recognize and easy to understand.

The psychological complexity of guilt, however, is difficult to fathom until one has experienced it for themselves. It wouldn't be unreasonable to suspect that Mr. South had probably once experienced a great deal of guilt; for to understand it is one thing…but to _feel _it, to reciprocate it, to _know _it… is something else entirely.

She didn't think it was possible to feel like this. With everything that had just happened, Elle knew that the last thing she should be reflecting on were her own feelings, but it was almost unavoidable. The pain that had built up in her chest from the time Brooke had arrived home from the store to now, as she sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room of Tree Hill Memorial Hospital next to Brooke, was nothing less than excruciating.

It had been ruled an 'accident.' Avery had simply darted out into the street while chasing a small, foam soccer ball. The driver hadn't been speeding, but had barely any time to react to the little girl who had just ran directly in front of their car. Elle's stomach soured when she learned that the driver of the car was so shaken that they had to be sedated.

The doctors hadn't been out to give them any news since their arrival, which had been almost an half an hour ago. All Elle knew was that Avery had suffered some sort of broken bones in her arm, and that she was unconscious during the entire ambulance ride to the hospital, which was what seemed to be the most troubling to the doctors. Any kind of head injury from the blunt force of a trauma was never something anyone took lightly…and the fact that Avery remained unconscious in the seven minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive, and during the ride itself, couldn't have meant anything good.

It was the silence that had been the most terrifying. Avery had many cuts and scratches all over her body, something that looked incredibly painful, and it was unbearably ominous to look at Avery and not see her crying over those injuries. She was hurt, she should have been crying. The silence was much, much worse.

Elle glanced up at Brooke, who was staring straight ahead with unfocused eyes. Brooke looked so absolutely broken, so terrified, that Elle had to look away. What could she say to make this better? How could she express how horribly, truly sorry she was?

Her breaths were shallow and uneven, her eyes wide and fearful, but Elle refused to let herself break down, not while Brooke was trying so desperately to hold it together herself. Elle did not _deserve _to break down, not when this whole thing had been entirely her fault. It would be incredibly selfish of her to cry in front of Brooke; because that's probably the last thing Brooke should have to deal with.

Elle's chest was burning, constricting and heaving all at the same time. Her fingers felt tingly and her eyes held tears that sat stationary on her eyelids. She had never experienced such guilt, such a deep, passionate hatred for herself. What had she done? Why had she been so selfish? Why hadn't she been thinking about what would happen if she had been too high to pay attention to Avery? Why on earth had she smoked that blunt? How could she have done something so incredibly stupid? What had she done?

"Brooke," Elle whispered, trying to apologize for the millionth time that evening, but Brooke stopped her, glaring at the blonde with icy, cold eyes.

"Don't." Brooke's words cut through Elle's feeble attempt at an apology like a hot knife. "Don't say anything. _Don't_ say anything. I can't deal with you right now. Don't say anything."

Elle drew a shuddering breath and glanced around the waiting room. This one was a lot smaller than the one she had been familiar with in Los Angeles. It seemed unreal that she had been sitting in a waiting room much like this one, after Larry had his heart attack, only a little over a month ago. How was it possible that so much had changed in such a short amount of time? Elle remembered how worried and afraid she had felt as she sat in the waiting room in LA, only to find out that her grandfather had died.

God forbid, oh, _God forbid_ that happen here too. Avery wasn't going to die. She had to be okay. She had to be okay, or Elle would never be able to forgive herself. It couldn't happen. Life couldn't possibly be that cruel.

Or could it? Everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, hell, everything that had happened in her life was an example of how cruel life could be. Elle had witnessed so many people getting hurt or killed over the years that she didn't even bother trying to convince herself that maybe, just maybe, life _wasn't _cruel. Elle knew better than to be blissfully optimistic in situations such as these, because experience showed her that being too hopeful about a terrible situation only led to a painful letdown.

Elle had never really been a much of a pessimist, for she left the negative thinking to her mother. Elle wanted to always come off as positive and optimistic to show people that she was nothing like Peyton. But now, it seemed that being a pessimist was so much easier. It was impossible to be optimistic about a situation that was entirely her fault. Elle didn't know if she could bear the pain of an optimist's letdown in this case, not when she had caused this. This was her doing. This was her fault.

It wasn't long before Julian and Matt arrived, Brooke melting into Julian's arms and dissolving into a fit of terrified sobs. Elle looked away; it was all she could do not to do the same.

"Where's Joey?" Brooke asked, her face still in Julian's chest.

"He's still at his friend's house. I called on my way over, and they're watching him for the night." Julian replied, running a hand through Brooke's hair.

"Good," Brooke breathed, her voice hitching. "He-he shouldn't have to be here for this."

"Nathan and Haley are on their way." Julian said softly, "So are Lucas and Lindsey."

"Lucas and Lindsey?" Brooke looked up at him through her tears.

"I know that you and them have been having problems, but they're still some of our closest friends. I called them, and they're coming to be here for us, and for Avery."

"That's so nice of them. It's so incredibly…Oh, Julian!" Brooke cried, "She has to be okay! I don't know what I'm going to do if she's not okay!"

Elle's heart constricted painfully as she twisted her fingers around each other in her lap. She felt physically sick, as though she was going to throw up all over the floor. She had never felt this kind of pain before, a guilt so strong that it was physically crippling.

She was a terrible, awful, horrible, bad person. She was the reason that Avery was hurt, the reason that Brooke was a worried mess, the reason Julian and Matt both looked as though they had been punched in the face. She was the reason for all of the suffering tonight, and this knowledge, this guilt, was building up in her chest faster than she could control. She was going to explode if she did not do something, _anything_ to try to fix what she had broken.

"I'm sorry. I am so, so, _so _sorry." Elle burst out; Julian and Matt both looking over at her. Brooke, however, did not turn her head in Elle's direction.

"Brooke, I'm _sorry,_" Elle pleaded, "Please, I'm so sorry!"

Brooke looked at her this time, tears still in her hazel eyes. With one arm around her shoulders, Julian put his free hand on Brooke's knee as the hurt in Brooke's face contorted into a frown.

"How could you do that?" Brooke's words came out a low, sharp growl from deep in her throat, no louder than a whisper. "After all we've done for you, after all we have been through together...how _dare _you do something like that? How dare you think so little of my family? How _dare _you."

"I didn't mean to…I didn't-," Elle stammered, guilt searing her insides like fire.

"You didn't mean to what?" Brooke spat, tears falling from her eyes, "You didn't mean to get _high _while I left my _daughter _in your care?"

"_What_?!" Julian drew a sharp breath. Elle could feel Matt's eyes on her from his seat. Julian and Matt hadn't been aware that she had smoked marijuana before Avery got hit by the car, and Elle could have burst into tears at the shocked, indignant look on Julian's face. She felt the hate, anger and disappointment radiating from all three of them, and it took everything in her not to collapse right there on the floor at Brooke's feet.

"I let you into this house, and I trusted you with my _child_. How dare you." Brooke's hoarse whisper cracked before she began to weep again. Julian wrapped his free arm around his wife, pulling her into his chest.

"I think you need to go." Julian said to Elle, over Brooke's sobs.

"But I-," Elle's eyes widened.

"No. You need to go." Julian said sternly. "Matt, I want you to take Elle home."

She jumped slightly as she felt a hand wrap around her upper wrist, pulling her away from the grieving couple. Matt, whom Elle had not spoken to since she had run from the rivercourt that morning, did not look at her as he led her through the sliding doors and into the parking lot.

Elle, now too stricken to even speak, climbed into the jeep in silence. She couldn't even begin to wonder what Matt was thinking, especially after how he reacted last night to a situation that hadn't even been her fault. His jaw was set as they drove in silence, but Elle could not tell if he looked angry, disappointed or some combination of the two. She noticed his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, and a sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

It was dark by the time they reached the house. Matt pulled into the driveway, wordlessly waiting for Elle to exit the car. Elle unfastened her seatbelt, making to get out, but turned to Matt, looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Matt, please," Elle said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Please believe how sorry I am. _Please, _Matt."

Matt said nothing, but let out a large breath of air, his eyes fixed out the front windshield.

"Matt, please look at me!" Elle's voice broke, "Please, Matt! I'm _sorry_! I am so sorry! Please look at me!"

Matt shook his head, not taking his eyes off of the garage door, which was illuminated by his headlights. He refused to look in her direction. "I have to get back to the hospital."

Tears pricked in her eyes as she climbed out of the jeep, Matt backing into the road the second she had closed the door. Her vision distorted by the emotion in her eyes, she made her way up the walk, stopping in her tracks as she noticed the abandoned bag of groceries that Brooke had left on the porch. A tear slid down her cheek as she gathered the bag in her arms, entering the dark house through the unlocked front door. Elle was breathing heavily as she made her way into the kitchen, putting the groceries into their rightful places in the pantry, fighting as hard as she could not to scream in agony.

Once the food was put away, Elle stood there for a moment, feeling extremely lost and unsure of what to do next, her mind teeming with the events of everything that had just happened.

What had she done? What the _hell _had she done?

While the pain of being sent away from the waiting room burned in her eyes, Elle didn't blame any of them for being upset with her. Brooke, who had already lost a best friend, who had been through so much with Elle, who had dedicated so much of her time to trying to help Elle heal from the painful life in LA, was now a sobbing mess thanks to her. Brooke had not only taken care of Elle when she was little, but she had let her into her home, given her a job, bought her clothes, and pretty much treated Elle like a child of her own.

And Avery, poor, innocent, beautiful little Avery, had been hit by a car. Elle didn't even know if Avery was okay. If she wasn't…Elle didn't know what she would do. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself.

And then there was Matt, who was more than just a friend. He wasn't her boyfriend, exactly…but whatever they had been together harvested strong feelings on both of their parts. He had been patient with her when they were getting to know each other, he'd been honest, reasonable and level headed once she had finally let him in, and he always said that he would be there for her. He was _so _good to her. And this is how she repaid him. This is how she showed gratitude to the only people who had given her a fighting chance at being loved.

And now they couldn't even bear to be around her. Brooke had never spoken to Elle with such hate, with such anger and disappointment. It was awful to witness this side of Brooke, a woman whom Elle had always admired and looked up to. Elle loved Brooke like family, and to be spoken to by someone she had so greatly admired was not only terrifying, but heartbreaking.

She felt absolutely, utterly _disgusted _with herself for bringing such tragedy into a perfectly happy family. A family that was completely blissful and carefree before they let Elle into their home. They hadn't known her, they hadn't known where she had been or what she had done, but they had let her in with open arms. They had sheltered her and accepted her as one of them. But then she hurt them. She had single-handedly hurt every single one of the members in her new family with one stupid, selfish, impulsive act. She hurt them, and now they were all broken and in pain. They were hurt, a family who had done nothing but care for her, and it was all her fault.

They were hurt, broken and probably wanted nothing else to do with the person who had caused them so much pain.

Elle stood in her room, the room Brooke had given her, and filled with new clothes and things to make her happy. She couldn't stay here anymore. Not after what she had just done. Even if they did forgive her someday, Elle didn't know if she would ever be able to forgive herself…at least, not enough to be able to go back to living with them as part of the family. She had ruined that forever.

Reaching under the bed, Elle retrieved her old, beaten duffel bag, the one thing she carried with her upon her arrival in Tree Hill. The bag looked older than Elle had remembered, taking her back to that lifetime of pain. Her stay in Tree Hill had been like standing on top of a beautiful mountain top between two dark, sunken valleys. It was time to make the ascension. She couldn't stay here anymore.

Deciding that it wouldn't be right to take all of the new clothes and other things that she had been spoiled with, Elle packed her bag with the few outfits and toiletries she had taken with her when she ran from LA. She did, however, also take the single paycheck that she had earned in the month she had worked at Brooke's. A little bit of money was better than no money at all.

After tidying up the bedroom, Elle closed the door and made her way downstairs, her heart lurching painfully as her eyes fell on the picture of Brooke, Peyton, Lucas, and all of their friends at prom. Grabbing her purse from the kitchen and stuffing it into her duffel bag, Elle took one more look around before marching out the door without a glance back.

She didn't have any idea where she was going. All she knew was that she couldn't stay there anymore, not with a family she had hurt so much. She had to run away. Maybe she would find Moe, and go off with them when they finally left Tree Hill. She could tour with the band, the single group of people who didn't know or give a shit about all the bad things in her life. They had never judged her before. Maybe going off with them wouldn't be such a terrible thing to do after all.

Elle remembered when she had tried to run away from home once. She was six, not long after her stepfather had passed away. Peyton's bipolar symptoms were becoming more and more prominent, though at that time, she had yet to be diagnosed. After Peyton had snapped and screamed at Elle after breakfast one morning, Elle fled to her room in tears, packing her plastic play suitcase with her favorite pillow, her crayons and a notebook. She had only made it halfway down the street when she heard Brooke come up behind her, coaxing the little girl to come back home.

Elle severely doubted that Brooke would do the same in this situation.

Tear tracks stuck to her cheeks in the hot summer night as she walked along a long, desolate road on the outskirts of town. Elle had been wandering aimlessly for quite some time now, not knowing what to do or where to go; all she could do was keep walking, walk away from the lives she had ruined. She had no damn idea where Moe could be, and hadn't spotted the Mystery Machine anywhere so far. Who even knew if Moe was even in Tree Hill anymore? Even if she had said that she'd be in town a few more days, Moe was never one to stick to a schedule. As far as Elle knew, Moe could have been halfway to Miami by now. Elle didn't know where to go. All she knew was that she couldn't go _back. _ She'd just have to keep going, wherever this lonely road took her.

Elle always used to feel sad about being lonely. But the funny thing was that however lonely she might have been, she always had somebody there. Whether it had been Peyton, Larry, Moe, Brooke, Matt, even her old middle school friends, there was always _someone_ there to make her loneliness not seem so vast. But now, for the first time ever, she truly had no one. Elle was not lonely...she was alone. And being alone, she realized, was a hell of a lot more agonizing than being lonely. She was alone, all alone, with nobody but herself. And to be alone when she felt such a deep and terrible hatred for herself was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly overcome with everything that had been building up inside her that day, Elle threw her bag off of her shoulder and onto the curb, collapsing down next to it in a heap of loud, heaving sobs.

Emotion poured from her heart like a wet sponge being rung out as she held one hand to her head, the other against her contracting abdomen. She was openly crying, something that she had _never _done, but she didn't care. She felt too horrible to care about her stupid pride, her stupid self-respect. How could she have any respect for herself after what she had done? To respect herself suddenly seemed incredibly arrogant and vain; she did not _deserve _to be respected. Not after the terrible mistake she had made.

The occasional headlights of a passing car would momentarily illuminate her broken figure seated on the side of the road, but she did nothing to hide her pain. The unbearably strong, consuming guilt gnawed at her insides as her throat burned white-hot, tears raining down her flushed cheeks. The muscles in her heaving stomach ached under her left hand, while the right clutched a handful of curls atop her head, her loud, dry sobs echoed in the darkness.

She was alone. She was all alone, with nowhere to go forward and nowhere to go back. Elle was trapped in this cruel limbo, here on the side of the road, with nothing but her guilt, her regret. She had nothing to offer the world except her tears. Elle had spent years resenting the fact that she couldn't openly express emotion, for she always had to be strong for those who already had too much to deal with. It was almost ironic, how she had never been able to freely express grief, in order to spare others…but now, after she had hurt the people she loved in a way much a worse than shedding a few tears, she no longer had to worry about burdening others with her pain. There was nobody left to burden…nobody left to see her cry. She could express it as freely as she wanted. Elle bowed her head, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

She kept sobbing as she heard the rumble of an engine pulling up beside her. As the engine shut off, Elle immediately stifled her cries by clapping a hand over her mouth. She did not look up as she heard the footsteps of someone slowly approaching her, but lowered her head even more, the sheet of blonde hair still hiding her eyes. Out of sheer habit, the presence of another person had gotten Elle to collect herself somewhat; her sobs diminishing to deep, shuddering breaths. Tears still streamed down her face as she felt the figure seat themselves down next to her.

She did not look up until she felt a pair of strong arms fold over her shoulders, pulling her trembling body closer into a solid torso. The moment her red, swollen eyes met his, she immediately began sobbing again. Of _all _people, _he_ was here. What was he doing here? Her emotions began to overload-- Her confusion over his presence overlapped with her grief, causing her to cry so hard that she could barely catch her breath.

"It's okay." He whispered, running a hand through her hair. "Just try to breathe."

Elle shook against him, her eyes burning with the pain from her heart. Why was he here? Shouldn't he be at the hospital? She did not know why or how he found her, and was extremely confused by his sudden appearance...and especially confused by the way he was comforting her, given what had happened between them earlier. She thought he couldn't handle being around her…why had he suddenly changed his mind? Had he gone looking for her, or did he just happen to stumble upon her as he drove? But despite this confusion, she could not get herself to stop crying into his chest, for the guilt still plagued her stronger than almost anything she had ever felt before.

"It's okay." Lucas said again, "It's going to be okay."

She didn't know if Lucas was aware of _why _she was so upset; for she had left the hospital before any of Brooke's other friends arrived. Had Brooke told all of them what Elle had done? And was Avery okay? Lucas wouldn't have left the hospital if there still wasn't any news on Avery, right? But it _had_ been over three hours since Elle had left the waiting room. Did something happen? Avery couldn't have…no. She _had _to be okay. This thought only caused her to cry harder, but she looked up at Lucas again, forcing her vocal chords to life.

"Avery-, is-Avery," she choked, in between gasping breaths, "I-is she, is s-she-,"

"She's going to be okay." Lucas said firmly, momentarily releasing her from his arms and looking her in the eyes, "She has a broken shoulder and some sort of bad concussion - but there wasn't any brain damage or other serious complications. She was pretty out of it when I saw her, but she was conscious. She's okay."

Relief swept over her like a match being dropped onto gasoline, and this sudden wave of emotion mixed in with everything else Elle was feeling, forming a bubbling volcano in her heart, ready to explode. Her stomach muscles contracted again as she bowed her head, processing this sudden news. It was all too much, all at once; she was feeling everything so strongly, sobbing so hard that no noise escaped from her mouth.

Lucas's arms were around her again, his hand threading her hair. "She's okay. It's going to be okay."

"I-I didn't-, I didn't mean it!" Elle could barely speak; her body shook as tears still rained from her eyes. "I d-didn't mean-, I didn't mean-, I-I didn't mean to hurt her! I-I-I didn't-, I –didn't- ,"

"Shhh," Lucas said soothingly, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I know."

"I d-didn't mean f-for it to happen!" her breath continued to hitch in her throat, "I-I'm s-, so, so s-sorry!"

"It's okay, just try to breathe. You have to calm down, just take a deep breath." Lucas tried to comfort her, to get her to stop talking, but Elle was not listening. Not when the guilt, the hot, bubbling guilt, continued to sear every inch of flesh under her skin.

"And e-everything that h-happened w-with Grace last night," Elle shook her head, "I'm so sorry, Lucas, so, terribly s-sorry. I'm so-, I-I'm sor-, I'm-,"

"I know. It's okay." Lucas said gently, speaking into her curls. "Shhh, I know."

"I'm so sorry." Elle's chest heaved with another wave of sobs. "I'm-, I'm just s-so, so sorry for everything. For ev-everything-, for everything I've d-done. I-I'm so sorry."

"I know." Lucas whispered again, "I know."

She didn't know why the hell he was acting this way toward her; so kind, so comforting. It hadn't even been twelve hours since he had turned away from her on the street, saying that he wasn't ready to know her. Why was he acting this was all of a sudden? Why the sudden change of mind? Why the sudden change of heart?

It was equally mind boggling that Elle had only had one conversation with him in her entire life, and now she was bawling in his arms. But the strange thing was that she didn't feel uncomfortable as he continued to whisper comforting words to her, running his hands over her hair. Elle should have been somewhat freaked that she was crying into the chest of a man whom she barely even knew. Maybe that was because she felt too guilty to even think or worry about feeling uncomfortable, or maybe it was because this man, this man who held her in his arms, was her father. She was being held by her father. Maybe she wasn't alone after all.

"I'm so sorry." she drew a shuddering breath, her voice as tiny as a kitten mewing, "I'm sorry."

His shirt was soaked through under her cheek, he had left his car headlights on, and the way he was sitting next to her couldn't have been comfortable, but Lucas did nothing but let her cry; cry out all the pain, the guilt, the regret. Her tears weren't about to let up anytime soon, but Lucas simply continued to stroke her hair and hold her close.

Bishop Robert South had described guilt to be as consuming as 'rust upon iron', that gnaws and gnaws until it eats out the very heart and substance of the metal. For him to describe it in such a dynamic way makes it plausible to suspect that he had been plagued by guilt at some point in his life. So how did he get through it? How does one overcome such a complex pain?

Maybe guilt is not something that can be overcome at all. Maybe it stays with someone forever, a constant reminder to never repeat the action that caused it in the first place. That very well may be a good thing, to have gained knowledge and wisdom from a situation. If guilt is able to morph itself into a lesson, will it still remain rust upon iron? Or will that pain eventually go away?

That's something that can probably never be answered. Perhaps all one can do is let life play itself out, let themselves grieve, let themselves heal and be redeemed. To Progress.

* * *

**Let me start by saying that this chapter was EXTREMELY difficult for me to write. I dug so deep into my character's head that I almost couldn't get back out. I tried to convey her pain as vividly as I could, but I also really tried not to make it too over-the-top. I hope my efforts were worth it......what did you think? :)**

**So now what happens? Any predictions for the future of Elle, Brooke, Lucas, Matt, Julian and Avery? I always benefit from hearing what you all have to say, and I ALWAYS take every single review to heart. :) **

**Take care, everyone :)**

**Love, Brennan.**


	19. Chapter 19

**OH HI! Remember me? What's this story about again? I'm a horrible bad person for not updating in such a long time, but here's my song and dance: **

**I had 98% of this chapter written and done (way back in April, mind you) when all of a sudden...my hard drive dies! (GASP) (SHRIEK!) Not just crashes, but literally dies. it's tanked forever.(SOB) I live in an apartment with my mom, and that was our only computer, so not only did I have no access to a computer, but I had lost everything that I had written for this chapter, as well as drabbles I had written for future chapters. So, after a mourning period, a period of writer's block, and a period mourning my muse, I finally began to hand write this chapter over again. Fast forward to now: I'm in Virgina visiting my grandparents, and they have a working computer (YEEE!) for me to use! So, I typed it up am finally posting chapter friggin nineteen- and it's completely different than what I had written before the death of my computer, but I hope you enjoy it. :) **

**And of course, to everyone who reviewed last time, I just can't thank you enough. You all nearly move me to tears every dang time. :) **

**SO, without further ado, I present Chapter 19: the reincarnated version.  
**

**

* * *

**

It was bright.

That was Elle Sawyer's first thought as she opened her eyes, her body warm beneath a purple afghan blanket. Harsh, early morning light peeked through the sheer fabric curtains, basking the unfamiliar room in a yellowish hue.

It took her a moment to realize where she was, but a split second later the memories of the previous evening flooded back with the force of a dam breaking. Her grogginess was immediately replaced by that painfully familiar feeling of self-loathing guilt.

After she had calmed down enough last night, Lucas had led her to his car, asking if she had anywhere to stay. That question had only made Elle start sobbing again. Without another word, Lucas began to drive, taking them to a house on the corner of a street that Elle had passed every day on the way to Brooke's store. Elle had found that interesting, to realize that Lucas had lived in this house all this time.

She had hesitated before entering the house. Noticing Elle's uncertainty, Lucas had told her that Lindsey and Grace were still at the hospital, and would probably be arriving home later. He had offered Elle some food and something to drink, but she had declined, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious and out of place in this house. It was considerably smaller than Brooke's, but felt warm, cozy; a family lived here, and she was intruding again. She was the outsider again.

Exhaustion had hit her hard and strong when Lucas led her down a narrow hallway, apologizing that they did not have a spare room for her. They had entered a room dimly lit by a small green desk lamp, a large futon couch against the wall. After Lucas had retrieved a pillow and blanket out of the closet, he pointed out the bathroom across the hall, asking if there was anything else she needed.

When he made to leave the room, he had stopped in the doorway, facing Elle once more. "It's all going to be okay. Good night, Elle."

Elle had quietly thanked him as he shut the door, realizing that she was, once again, alone with her thoughts. She was hot, sweaty, her mind teeming with questions and her face swollen from crying. She probably would've benefited from a hot shower, but Elle had collapsed into an exhausted heap on the futon, without undressing, removing her shoes or even turning off the lamp. She had prayed for sleep to overtake her, to finally end this horrible day and escape from consciousness completely.

Her racing mind had finally given in to her body's exhaustion last night, but she was awake now, and it was bright. The morning villainously mocked Elle's wish to continue sleeping, spitefully keeping her awake with its intense brightness.

She sat up slowly, glancing around this unfamiliar room with heavy eyes, eyes that could have continued to sleep for hours, shutting themselves away from the world. The green walls were covered with picture frames and license plates, and to the left of the futon couch she was laying on was a large, majestic looking oak desk. The small lamp on the desk was still glowing meekly; the dim light that had lit this room in last night's darkness now drowning in the sunlight.

Her knees cracked as she stood, her arms hanging heavy on her shoulders and her legs weak like jello. Elle stepped over to the desk, switching the lamp off, finally letting it rest. Her eyes jumped between two small desktop picture frames that sat on either side of an impressive looking iMAC computer, as something in her heart sighed. The frame on the left held a picture of a smiley, sandy haired little girl in a yellow sundress, holding a handpicked bouquet of fuzzy yellow dandelion weeds in her hands. Her small arms were extended, as though she was presenting the little bundle of flowers to whoever was taking the picture. Elle recognized Grace's gray eyes in this little girl, guessing that Grace had probably been five or six years old when this picture had been taken.

The other photograph was much more recent, probably taken within the past year or so. Elle stared at Lucas's extremely happy face looking directly back out at her, with the profiles of Lindsey and Grace on either side of him, each planting a kiss on his cheek. Noting the big cake in front of them and ridiculous party hats they were all wearing, Elle figured that it had been on Lucas's last birthday. It took a second for her to realize that they were on Brooke's back deck, where the party had apparently been held. Elle's whole body seemed to wilt as she looked at the familiar background setting of the photograph, her heart aching for the tasteful patio furniture and the smell of the stained wood mixed with the salty ocean air.

She didn't even know when Lucas's birthday was. How much time had passed between the time when the picture was taken to when Elle showed up on Brooke's doorstep last month? She looked at Lucas's face again. It was strange to see him smile like that, to see him looking so incredibly happy. In the few times she had interacted with her father, he hadn't really ever been happy. But this picture, after all, _had _been taken before any of the three figures in the photograph had known of her existence.

It was immature and a little silly of Elle to think that her existence was the reason that Lucas never smiled anymore, but her current guilt and disgust with herself allowed her to dwell on these ridiculous things as she tiptoed into the bathroom, reaching for a washcloth in a basket next to the sink.

When she was little, Elle liked to watch Grandpa Larry get ready in the morning. It had been their special time together, before Larry would go in to work, while Brooke and Peyton were both still asleep. He would let her smear the shaving cream onto his face, and when she had finished, Larry sometimes would kiss her on the cheek, leaving a big glop of shaving cream behind, making her giggle wildly. Elle used to ask him why he always washed his face before he shaved, since it would just get all full of shaving cream. Larry would reply that he always washed his face first, to "_scrub the tiredness away". _

That expression had stayed with her ever since; even now, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her wild hair stuck to her cheeks in clumps, cemented by dried tears and sweat. Her skin was oily and she had a smudge of dirt caked above her left eyebrow, not knowing how it got there. Elle blinked, her eyes still swollen and bloodshot. If she had been in a better mood, she would have laughed at how ridiculous she looked right now, but instead, Elle scowled at herself before running the faucet, hastily splashing water onto her face. She reached for the washcloth, scrubbing at her skin a little harder than necessary.

After Grandpa Larry would finish washing his face, he used to pop up from the sink, smiling and exhaling loudly, making Elle giggle. "_Now I'm awake! I scrubbed the tiredness away!_" Then he would turn to Elle, gasping in mock-surprise, "_Elle! Have you been here this whole time? I was so sleepy that I didn't even notice!" _

Patting her face dry with a fresh towel, Elle looked back up at her reflection. Her face was clean, no longer looking like someone who had spent half the night bawling on the side of the road. She had scrubbed away her tiredness, as well as all the dirt and grime of last night. Elle looked at herself little closer, her stomach sinking. Even though the physical evidence had been washed away, guilt still clung to her insides like glue. If only she could wash that away too, making it disappear as simply as the dirt above her eye that had no evidence of ever being there at all.

After folding the afghan and placing it at the foot of the futon, Elle changed her clothes before grabbing her duffel bag and quietly exiting the room, not wanting to wake anyone. Lindsey and Grace were probably back now, sleeping in beds that were hidden behind the closed doors that Elle passed before entering the living room.

She knew that it wasn't right to just sneak away before anyone woke up, but Elle couldn't stay here, not after everything that had happened with Grace and Hannah, not after the way Lindsey yelled at her the other night. Lindsey wouldn't want her here, and it would be easier to just get out now, before Lindsey kicked her out herself.

Elle was running again. Running away again without a plan or a place to go. Maybe she could find Moe, and go off with the band. Maybe Elle could go down to the hospital and try to beg for forgiveness one more time...But that wouldn't be right. Not after what she had done to them. Elle wouldn't dare ask for anything from them after what happened yesterday.

With a lead weight in the pit of her stomach, Elle stepped over to the front door. But as she made to reach for the handle, a rustling of paper made her jump and wheel around. Lucas faced her from his seat on the couch, looking at her from over the sports page in his hands. She hadn't even noticed him there until now.

"Oh!" She gasped, "You scared me. I didn't think anyone was up yet."

"I've never been one to sleep in," Lucas replied, folding the paper and placing it next to him.

"Yeah...me either...," Elle nodded. Things were getting awkward, and she realized that she had no idea what to say to this man. Small talk suddenly seemed as difficult as speaking to him in French.

"You hungry?" Lucas asked her, reaching for another section of the paper and opening it. "I could make you something to eat."

"Oh, uh, no…thanks." Elle said, fidgeting with the zipper on the duffle bag over her shoulder.

"Alright, no problem." Lucas said, his eyes falling on the paper in front of him.

Elle stood there for a few moments, inwardly cringing. After the interaction that they had last night, normal communication between them shouldn't be this difficult. What happened to the man who had held her in his arms on the curb? This version of Lucas wasn't the same as the one who had comforted her last night. Elle took a deep breath before speaking; voicing the question she had been dying to ask him since he had pulled up on the side of the road.

"Lucas?" Elle asked slowly, as he glanced back up at her. "How...uh, how did you find me last night?"

She tried to ignore the fact that she was hoping that Lucas had found her because someone had noticed that she had left, and had sent someone to look for her.

"I was just on my way home from the hospital," Lucas said, "And saw you there, on the side of the road. Some twist of fate, huh?"

"Yeah...," Elle mumbled, disappointment pinching her between the ribs. "Well, anyway, thank you for...what you did last night. You know, letting me crash and...Well, thanks. I really appreciate it."

She had one hand on the doorknob when Lucas suddenly stood up, as though he was only now realizing that she was leaving.

"Wait," he said, "Don't go. Please, stay."

Elle blinked, seeing a flash of the man he had been last night, letting her hand fall limply to her side. "I...,"

"Please stay." Lucas said again, stepping closer to her. "I called Brooke's phone last night. I left her a message saying that you were going to stay here for a little while."

"Oh," Elle said slowly, taking a seat on the couch adjacent from the one Lucas had been sitting on earlier. She didn't know what to say; confusion about his intention overshadowed her gratitude for letting her stay. Yesterday he had said that he wasn't ready to know her. He had pushed her away, and now he was reeling her in so fast that she was dizzy and disoriented. She didn't understand why he was so suddenly open to having her in his life.

Lucas sat next to her, taking a deep breath. "I know that I said some things yesterday. I was being cowardly, and I'm sorry. But...please don't go. Let me tell you from experience that running away solves nothing."

* * *

It was quiet.

That was Brooke Davis's first thought as a nurse shuffled out of their room, leaving her alone with the silence. Until now, Brooke had never really noticed how rhythmic a hospital room was. The monitors beeped, the clock on the wall ticked. Julian's chin rested on his chest as he slept in a chair by the window, his loud breathing was even and slow. Each noise was a different metronome, as though they were all helping Brooke count out the time as it continued to pass so painfully slow.

Brooke rubbed her hand over the top of Avery's head, her fingers grazing the little girl's shiny black hair. It wasn't the first time she had sat at someone's bedside in a hospital, but to see a child, _her _child, in this situation made all the other experiences completely unrelatable. To see her little girl in this hospital bed was something else entirely. Avery had a small bandage on her forehead- a result of hitting her head on the ground, and a large cast extending from her shoulder to her knuckles- a result of the impact of the car. But strangely, Brooke was most disturbed by the IV, that _needle _piercing her daughter's tiny arm, and the oxygen being given through a tube under her little nose.

The doctors had assured them that Avery was going to be fine; her broken arm would heal and her concussion wasn't too serious. She had even been awake and talking last night, but they wanted to keep Avery here for another day or two; for head injuries were to never be taken lightly. But for now, she was stable, sleeping soundly due to the considerable amount of morphine they had given her.

Brooke's friends, who had all so kindly rushed to the hospital last night, had all left shortly after Avery was placed in the recovery room, assuring the grief stricken Davis-Baker family that everything would be okay, telling them to get some rest and saying that they'd be back in the morning.

But she hadn't slept. She hadn't eaten or drank. She hadn't even left the room since Avery had been moved in here last night. Brooke was on auto pilot, doing and saying things without really thinking about them at all. She'd had conversations with nurses, she'd told Julian to get some sleep and told Matt to go shower at home. But she was absent minded, focusing on nothing but the little girl in the bed.

Every so often, however, a strong feeling of betrayal would gnaw at her heart, triggering a series of images to play in her mind like a film being fast forwarded. There was Elle, on the porch with bloodshot eyes, then there was the sickening image of Avery lying unconscious in the street, the driver of the car wailing loudly. There was Elle next to her in the ambulance, and Elle across from her in the waiting room.

But before these images could consume her, Brooke focused back on Avery. She turned the auto pilot switch, stifling the flashbacks, the overwhelming betrayal simmering down to nothing but a tickle in her throat.

The steady, consistent rhythm of the room was interrupted as Julian stirred, lifting his head and opening his eyes. Brooke smiled at him from her seat next to Avery's bed as he stood and stretched, before dragging his chair over next to her.

"Hey you," he whispered, kissing Brooke on the cheek. "How's our girl?"

"Sleeping." Brooke replied softly, as Julian grabbed her hand. "and Matt went home to shower a little while ago."

"Have you been up this whole time?" Julian asked, as Brooke nodded.

"I couldn't fall asleep right now even if I wanted to." she said, "It's too much to sleep through."

"It's all going to be fine." Julian said, as Brooke leaned into him, one hand holding his, the other holding Avery's.

They sat there in silence, the room filling with nothing but rhythmic noises again. The noises hadn't really ever stopped, but she had forgotten about them when there was something else for her to listen to. But after their voices had died down, the clicking, ticking and beeping were the dominant sounds once again; a depressing soundtrack to make the quietness not seem so vast.

Matt suddenly burst the room, making Brooke and Julian jump apart. He was breathing heavily, as though he had rushed back here in a hurry.

"Elle's gone." he announced, his young face lined with concern.

"What do you mean gone?" Julian asked, as Brooke frowned slightly, her eyes focusing back on Avery.

"Her stuff's gone and her room's empty." Matt said, his voice slightly strained. "I...I dropped her off last night and I guess she must have taken off sometime last night or this morning. But I have no idea where she went. She's gone."

"So she just ran away?" Julian asked, sounding more worried than indignant.

"No." Brooke finally looked up again, her voice low. Both Julian and Matt's heads snapped in her direction, surprised by her dark tone.

"She crapped all over our family and _then _she ran away." Brooke gave a dry laugh, rolling her eyes. "Un-freakin'-believable. Like mother, like daughter."

"Brooke," Julian said softly, ever the peacekeeper. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We have to find her." Matt paced back and forth in the small room. "I know that she really screwed up, but this isn't right. She's still one of us-,"

"Stop it." Brooke said harshly, cutting through Matt's words. "I can't handle that right now. My _daughter _was hit by a car last night. I am _not _in any condition to worry about the person responsible for it. Just...stop."

Matt closed his mouth slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek, as though biting back a retort. He nodded slightly, his shoulders sinking. Brooke gave a huff before turning back to Avery, her rigid posture trembling as she desperately tried to hold herself together, more for herself than anyone else. She had been a sobbing mess last night, but now, after things had finally settled down, she could once again keep her emotions in check. If she started crying again, Brooke feared that she wouldn't be able to stop this time.

"I'm going to go pick Joey up from his friend's." Matt said, "You guys need anything?"

"I'm okay, thanks, Matt." Julian said quietly, his hand still on Brooke's shaking shoulder.

"No." Brooke whispered, not taking her eyes off of Avery. She closed her eyes as she heard Matt leave the room, the large wood door closing behind him.

"Brooke," Julian said again, "We need to talk about Elle."

"No!" Brooke hissed, looking at him angrily. "I don't want to talk about her right now! She did _drugs _while watching our _child, _Julian! I know that she didn't purposefully hurt Avery. I know she didn't mean it. But she still made the _choice _to fire up a joint when our _four year old _was in her care! She obviously didn't give a shit about what was going to happen; otherwise she wouldn't have done it in the first place!"

"I know, I know," Julian said, "I can't believe that she did that. I'm astounded and pissed off and hurt just like you. But we can't just let her take off. She's a messed up kid and she needs help."

"Do you not see where we are right now?" Brooke cried, throwing her arms in the air, "Do you not see your child lying in a bed hooked up to IVs and monitors? I can't worry about whatever Elle is doing right now when Avery is _here_, Julian!"

"I know," Julian said again, trying to calm her down.

"I'm shocked and hurt and afraid and I'm so damn _exhausted_!" Brooke continued, "I can't worry about Elle right now because I just see Avery, in this bed, remembering how she ended up here, and that pisses me off _so _much! I am so mad at her, Julian! I can't worry about Elle when Avery is lying in a hospital bed!"

Brooke's voice trembled violently as she finished speaking. Julian sighed, rubbing small circles on her back, resting his head against hers.

"Okay. It's okay." Julian whispered into her hair, sounding almost defeated. "We're all going to get through this."

"I'm so exhausted," Brooke's voice hitched as she tried to calm herself down again.

"Why don't you go home and take a shower, maybe eat something." Julian suggested, "You've been awake all night."

"No," Brooke shook her head, brushing Avery's bangs over the small bandage on her forehead. "I can't leave."

"Avery's stable. She's been stable all night. Nothing's going to happen when you leave." Julian said, "I'll be right here."

"What if she wakes up when I'm gone? What if she needs me?" Brooke's eyes pooled.

"She already knows you're here. She saw you last night. And I'm going to stay right here with her the whole time." Julian assured her, "Nothing is going to happen. Go home, Brooke, you'll feel so much better after a shower."

The chorus of metronomes filled her ears again as Julian waited for an answer. After a moment, Brooke finally stood, drawing a slow, shaky breath. "You promise-,"

"I promise to call if anything happens. But it's going to be fine." Julian stood as well, planting a kiss on her forehead. Brooke gave him a sad smile before turning and exiting the room, her heels against the linoleum creating yet another rhythmic beat as she left.

* * *

It was hot.

That was Elle Sawyer's first thought as she stepped out on to Lucas's front porch. A blast of summer air hit her in the face as she exited the air conditioned interior. Exhaling slowly, Elle seated herself on the top step of the porch, the covered veranda keeping her out of the sweltering sunlight.

Despite the heat, it really was a beautiful day. A light breeze brushed against her skin as birds chirped from the yard, while a large cat was resting in the driveway of the house across the street, basking itself in the sun. It seemed surreal that the weather could be this beautiful after something so terrible had happened last night.

It had rained for 47 hours straight right after her mother died. Elle remembered watching the raindrops roll down the window panes, relating to them, wondering if the weather was emulating her mood, grieving with her. The storm seemed to last forever; Elle had wondered if it would ever stop raining. She had wondered if she would ever stop feeling that pain in her heart.

Elle rested her chin on her knees as the muffled voices of a heated argument grew louder from inside the house. She didn't need to eavesdrop to know that Lucas and Lindsey were fighting about her.

Lindsey had awoken some two hours or so after Lucas had convinced Elle to stay, Elle tensing up as she saw her father's wife enter the room. Lindsey, who apparently had already been informed of Elle's arrival, gave them a stiff smile before entering the kitchen. Lucas had shot Elle an apologetic glance before standing and following his wife in to the kitchen.

After a much needed shower later that morning, Elle had entered the kitchen to find Lucas and Lindsey standing very close together, whispering secret words that Elle could not hear. The both glanced up after realizing that she was standing there, Lucas looking tired and Lindsey looking stressed.

"Hi, Elle," Lindsey had said, the forced politeness evident in her voice.

Elle smiled back, nervously, feeling awkward about interrupting their private conversation. "I'm just going to go outside…"

Those hushed whispers had exploded into exasperated shouts almost directly after Elle had stepped out into the heat, and it was getting harder and harder not to listen.

"_I really wish you had discussed this with me first, Lucas!" _

"_What's to discuss? She's my daughter!" _

"_And I'm your WIFE! That better as hell count for something!" _

Elle sighed, regret and guilt overtaking her again. She wished that she could talk to Matt right now; to tell him how uncomfortable it was being here. Matt always said the right thing. She mentally kicked herself for never resolving their conflict, for not working things out before what had happened last night. It was too late now…he'd never forgive her after this. He'd had so much hurt in his eyes when he took her home from the hospital. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her.

The sun was slowly creeping toward her, blanketing the bottom two steps in light. Soon, the sun would swallow the shade, leaving her exposed to the summer sunlight.

"_You moped around for days, shutting yourself away from the world and NOW, all of a sudden, you want to take her in? I don't understand you, Lucas! I don't see the logic in this equation!" _

"_She needs a place to stay! She needed help! I'm not going to turn in to Dan!" _

"_You aren't Dan, Lucas! You're a confused son of a bitch who needs to sort out his problems before taking in refugees! I don't think you're in any place to handle something like this right now!" _

"_Handle? What's there to handle?" _

"_She's a troubled kid, Luke, and you're no better off! She needs help and stability, but I don't think we're the right people to give it to her!" _

"_She's my daughter!" _

"_DAMNIT, I KNOW SHE'S YOUR DAUGHTER!" _

Elle cringed, hugging her knees to her chest. It always made her uncomfortable to listen to people arguing. When she was little, when Peyton's shouts had been a daily occurrence, Elle would seek comfort from Brooke, who always had some sort of trick or game to take Elle's mind off of the fighting. But after Brooke left, Elle was forced to deal with it alone. Without Brooke there, Elle really couldn't help herself from hearing the fighting. No matter how much she didn't want to hear it, she couldn't stop listening.

"_Did you forget about what just happened with Grace? I know you weren't the one holding her hair back as she puked all night, but did you forget where that influence came from, Lucas? Did you hear what Brooke was saying last night? About Avery's accident?" _

"_I KNOW WHAT BROOKE SAID!" _

Elle's stomach dropped as the front door opened, momentarily amplifying the voices from inside. She wheeled around to see Grace stepping out on to the porch, closing the door behind her, muffling the voices once more.

"They're going to shatter all the windows in the kitchen if they keep shouting like that." Grace said airily, sitting down next to Elle. "Dad said you're crashing here for a while."

"Yeah…," Elle nodded, "But, uh, your mom doesn't seem too happy about it."

"It's not you." Grace shrugged. "Mom just doesn't handle change very well. It makes her stress. And besides...they've been fighting like this for, like, weeks anyway."

A quick flicker of sadness flashed across Grace's face. Elle gave her a weak half-smile, not really knowing what to say.

"Well, anyway," Grace instantly perked back up, "It'll be nice to have some company around here, seeing as I'm grounded for like, the rest of the summer."

"I'm sorry about that whole thing." Elle said, "I knew it was a bad idea to go to the party in the first place. I shouldn't have let it happen."

"It's okay. It's not your fault." Grace smiled warmly. "We all made bad choices that night. You don't have to be sorry."

"Thank you," Elle said genuinely, looking at Grace straight in the eyes. Grace had been the first one to say that it wasn't her fault. Elle suddenly felt a wave of affection toward this girl; sorry that she had misjudged her as over-perky and slightly obnoxious.

After a slight pause, Grace spoke again, sounding a little more timid. "Look, I heard what happened yesterday. And I know you feel bad…like, really bad, but that's not your fault either."

Now Grace was just trying to make her feel better. Nobody could possibly think that the accident wasn't Elle's fault. Elle gave Grace a sad smile, shaking her head.

"But it is my fault." Elle gazed out across the street. The cat in the driveway had vanished, perhaps the sunlight suddenly became too much. "None of this would have happened if I didn't do what I did. I hurt my family."

She met Grace's eyes again, and this time it was Grace who gave her a sad smile. Elle took a deep breath, hugging her knees tighter to her chest.

"But the sick thing is, the moment I hurt one of them, I was the outsider again." Elle looked back out at the street. "Makes me wonder whether I was really a part of them at all."

* * *

It was empty.

That was Brooke Davis's first thought as she entered her house, her footsteps echoing in the large, elaborate foyer. She had always been proud of the foyer; appreciating the beauty of the room when entering the house after a long day, cheerfully greeting whoever was home at the time.

But now, it was empty. There was no one to greet as she closed the door, glancing from the pristine marble floors to the large, shimmering, glass chandelier that hung from the two-story ceiling. The normally dazzling foyer suddenly didn't seem beautiful at all- it just seemed big and lonely; as though the emptiness had cast a shadow over the whole house, dulling the glamor and amplifying each echoing step she took toward the staircase.

Her eyes fell on the small table near the bottom of the stairs. The picture frames had all been knocked over, now laying underneath her large black purse. Brooke's heart twisted as she remembered having thrown her bag down onto this table as she had raced throughout the downstairs; to free up her right hand while her left had been clenched around Elle's arm.

Brooke pulled her cell phone out of the side pocket of the purse, suprised that the battery hadn't died after leaving it on all night. She wasn't surprised, however, by the numerous amount of missed calls and messages that flashed across the screen. Two missed calls from Haley, five or so missed calls from work, one from Matt, a text from Lindsey, and one new voicemail. Deciding to listen to the voicemail first, Brooke brought the phone to her ear.

"_Hey, Brooke...uh, hey. It's Lucas. I'm sure you're still at the hospital right now, uh, but I was calling to let you know that Elle's here, uh, at my house. I didn't want you to worry or anything. I'm gonna let her stay here until...you know, until everything can be worked out. So, uh, yeah...she's here and she's safe. Well, I'm sure I'll talk to you soon. Hang in there, Brooke, and keep me posted about Avery. Take care. Bye." _

Brooke closed her phone, conflicting emotions bubbling in her stomach. She had clenched her jaw at his mention of Elle's name, but couldn't disguise the tiny wave of relief that tickled her stomach upon learning that Elle was okay.

Grabbing her purse off of the table, Brooke began to stand the picture frames back up. It was funny, how she was still so connected to the same people in a photograph that had been taken almost twenty years earlier. They had all been so different then. That was back when Nathan was a loveable asshole redeeming himself, back when Jamie Scott was just a fetus in Haley's belly, back when Lucas and Peyton seemed as though they were going to be together forever. That was back before all of this happened. Back before Peyton had gotten sick, back before Lucas forgot about inspiration, back before Brooke had met Julian or created this family...back before Peyton had killed herself and left her child without a mother. Before Elle had come here, broken and confused, before Avery got hit by a car...

Brooke put the frame face-down on the table, her body sagging with the misery radiating from her heart. She climed the stairs slowly, listening to the emptiness echoing throughout the house. She was physically exhausted, emotionally drained, and in desperate need of a relaxing shower, but when she reached the top of the stairs, Brooke found herself standing in Elle's doorway, instead of her own.

Matt had been right in assuming that Elle had taken off; for the bedroom she had been inhabiting for the last month was now spotless; having no trace of her ever being there at all. Without really knowing why, Brooke entered the room and began stripping the sheets off of the bed, taking them down the hall to the laundry room.

Feelings of disappointment, anger, hurt, sadness and concern all clashed in her heart like an out of tune guitar chord as she started the washer. Brooke was heartbroken that Elle had done something like that while watching Avery. She was outraged that Elle had run away, but at the same time, Brooke couldn't help but feel extremely saddened that Elle's room was now empty. Elle was Brooke's part of Peyton that lived on, making the death of her best friend a little easier to deal with. Brooke cared for Elle as much as she cared for her own children. Yes, she loved Elle. But as soon as Brooke's heart would begin to go out to her best friend's daughter, her anger would yank it right back.

Brooke opened the door of the hallway linen closet, standing on her toes to reach a fresh bed sheet that was crammed on the very top shelf. Catching the corner between two fingers, she gave it a tug, trying to yank it out from the extremely full shelf. With a little jump, Brooke pulled the corner hard, causing the sheet, with the rest of the contents of the shelf, to come avalanching down on top of her; a true irony that could only be appropriate in that situation.

Brooke covered her head with her arms as the mass of blankets and sheets tumbled down, ricocheting off of her body and onto the floor. She winced as she felt the corner of something solid hit her in the shoulder, and upon looking down, realizing that it had been an old cardboard shoebox; its contents now splayed around her feet.

Pushing the pile of blankets aside, Brooke slowly sat down at the foot of the closet, suddenly distracted by curiosity. She didn't ever remember ever seeing this old box in the closet before, assuming that it had been buried beneath the linens for quite some time. Her chest tightened when she realized that this box held nothing but pictures, notes and photos...of Peyton. There were doodles that Peyton had drawn from elementary school, notes that they had passed in seventh grade, photographs of Brooke and Peyton ranging from seven to seventeen. These were Brooke's childhood memories, memories that she had locked away for a very long time...memories that basically all included Peyton.

Brooke held an old photograph in her hand; a Polaroid of two little girls: A dimple-faced brunette on a purple bicycle, and a curly-haired blonde riding a red one. Brooke's nostrils flared as she blinked back the tears that had quickly formed in her eyes.

_Then_

_Peyton followed Brooke through the garage, both girls eager to play in Brooke's large front yard on such a lovely day. Peyton stopped, however, when something bright purple caught her eye. "I didn't know you had a bike! This is great! We can ride everywhere together!"_

_Brooke wheeled around, looking at her friend, shame growing hot on her cheeks . "I can't." _

_At seven years old, Brooke had found a new friend in Peyton Sawyer on the first day of second grade. They had been inseparable ever since. Brooke, who's shyness would not be outgrown for a few more years, was taken by the blonde's fiery personality; appreciating her constant attention, for she received very little from her parents. _

_"What do you mean?" Peyton asked. _

_" I...don't know how to ride." Brooke said, looking at her feet. "My mom bought it for me because I told her I wanted it, but nobody ever taught me how to ride."_

_Peyton, however, just smiled and wheeled the bike into the driveway. "Well, I guess I'll teach you, then!"_

_"You?" Brooke asked, perking up. _

_"Sure!" Peyton replied, grinning, "I've been riding a two-wheeler since I was four! It's no sweat!"_

_"If you say so…," Brooke shrugged, following Peyton into the driveway and down to the sidewalk. _

_"Okay, get on," Peyton pointed to the seat, placing her hands on the small bar behind it. "I'll hold the back, so you don't fall."_

_"Are you sure, Peyton?" Brooke frowned slightly. _

_"Sure, I'm sure!" Peyton chirped, "This is how my mom taught me. C'mon!" _

_Brooke looked at Peyton once more before sighing and climbing on to the seat. The bike wobbled as she settled herself on the purple seat, but Peyton held tight, preventing it from falling. Once the bicycle was stable, Brooke turned her head, facing Peyton. "Now what?" _

_"Okay, just start pedaling." Peyton said, still gripping the back of the bike. _

_"Okay…," Brooke said, uneasily, beginning to pedal slowly, "Don't let go!"_

_"I won't!" Peyton said, as they began to slowly move down the sidewalk. "Petal faster, you're doing great!"_

_Brooke, gaining confidence, pumped her legs harder, listening to the sound of Peyton's feet slapping against the concrete behind her. The bike wobbled again as Peyton struggled to hold on. _

_"Okay, Brooke, slow down! I can't keep up!" Peyton called, breathing hard._

_"What? How do I do that?" Brooke cried, "I don't know how to stop!"_

_"Pedal backwards!" Peyton said hurriedly. "It's okay!"_

_Brooke, confused, just stopped pedaling the bike altogether. She shrieked as the bike began to teeter, Peyton trying to keep it from falling. It was only seconds, however, before they made a spectacular crash landing in the neighbors' yard, both girls sprawled side by side in the grass. _

_"Are you okay?" Peyton asked, turning her head to face Brooke. _

_"Yeah!" Brooke looked at Peyton, giggling. "I'm not too good at this!"_

_Peyton started to laugh as well, as they lied there in the grass, their cries of laughter echoing in up into the summer air. _

_"Peyton?" Brooke asked, after their fits of laughter had subsided._

_"Yeah?" Peyton turned her head to face Brooke once again._

_"You're the best friend I've ever had."_

Now

Brooke shook her head sadly, throwing the old photograph back into the shoebox. The last thing she needed right now was to think about Peyton. That alone never failed to make Brooke feel the need to grieve all over again, and after everything that had just happened, more grief would probably be too much to handle.

"Damnit, Peyton...," she murmured, gathering more photographs in her hands and placing them back into the old box.

How had all this happened? How was it possible for the two happy, carefree little girls in that photograph to grow in to such broken people? How was it possible for that fearless, brave curly-haired little girl to become so unstable? How was it possible that Peyton could do something like that to herself and to her family?

How was it possible to hurt this badly, to feel such confusion? How was it possible that Avery was lying in a hospital bed? How was it possible that Elle had moved out? Things had been going to well...they had all been so happy. They were all healing. How was it possible for their world to come crashing back down so quickly?

Brooke held another Polaroid in her hands, this one of Brooke and Peyton as teenagers, lying on Peyton's bed. Brooke had been grinning wildly, while Peyton reluctantly looked into the camera, her eyebrows raised in sarcasm. Brooke's throat tightened. How was it possible that her best friend was dead?

An tsunami of emotions washed over her as she continued to collect the pictures and notes off of the floor, forcefully throwing them into the box. "Damnit."

She had to get these put away. She couldn't look at them for another second. She couldn't look upon the face of Peyton, Elle's mother, her best friend, any longer without that tightness in her chest suffocating her right there on the spot. Handfuls and handfuls continued to get tossed back into the box, but the images were not going away. "Damnit, Peyton!"

Why was it taking so damn long to collect the contents of the box? Why couldn't she put them away faster? Brooke's breathing was steadily growing more and more uneven, her hands shaking violently. Everything seemed to be piling up inside her chest, like the pile of blankets falling from the shelf. Avery was in the hospital. Elle had run away. Peyton was dead. Elle had smoked. Avery had gotten hit by a car. Peyton was dead. Avery was hurt, Elle was gone and Peyton was dead. Peyton was dead. Peyton was dead. Peyton was-

"DAMNIT!" a loud cry ripped from her throat, and before she knew what she was doing, Brooke had hurled the shoebox down the hall with all her might, the loud noise it made as it collided with the wall doing nothing to satisfy her pain. "What happened to you, Peyton?"

And then she was doubled over, sobbing into the carpet. "What happened, Peyton? What happened to you? "

Her cries came out strangled, dry, choked; loud sobs echoing through the house, with no one to hear them but the miserable emptiness. "What happened to you Peyton? Damnit, what happened? What happened?"

Peyton had once told Brooke that it would be a blessing to have no emotions, to never feel any pain ever again. Brooke had disagreed, telling Peyton that without emotion, one could never love, or feel happiness or excitement. Brooke had said that a life like that would have been too empty to even be considered a life at all.

"_But it's all relevant," _Peyton had replied, "_You fall in love? You eventually get your heart broken. You're way up high on cloud nine? There's nowhere to go but down. Even the sweetest things will give you a stomachache after a while. It all hurts eventually." _

_

* * *

_**It's a little different than how I usually structure my chapters, but I enjoyed the change. It was fun to switch things up. :) I also enjoyed getting back into Brooke's head, which I haven't done in a while. We missed each other. ;)**

**So how are you feeling? Let me know :) I'd love to hear your opinion... likes, dislikes, cries of indignation, vulgarities, poems, love letters, novels ( a-non lurker, you're the best) predictions, or anything else you feel the need to tell me! You all are incredible! Please take care!**

**Love, Brennan :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey there! I was ASTOUNDED by the amount of feedback that I received for my last chapter. After such a long absence, I hadn't been expecting that at all. ****The power you all have over me with these reviews is insane! I was in such an incredibly good mood for like the whole week after reading all the things you all had to say to me. ****Just...wow, guys, thank you so much. :)  
**

**

* * *

**

They say that personal growth is a bittersweet gift in the wake of a tragedy.

Tragedy is filled with loss and heartbreak, but despite all the misery and pain, it can be gained from as well. Tragedy changes people. Sometimes it takes something truly terrible to alter one's perspective about the genuinely important things in life. Tragedy can make people realize that they've been taking something for granted, or fussing over unnecessary petty things.

Recovering in the wake of a tragedy can be as difficult as the tragedy itself. Recovery is unpredictable; often disappointingly slower than expected. Sometimes, others will try to help someone recover from a tragedy. But other people can only do so much. Nobody can ever tell someone the perfect time to pick themselves back up after a fall. Nobody can tell anyone else the perfect time to start progressing after something terrible happens. In the end, it all comes down to someone's own personal strength and ability to let themselves recover.

Personal growth is a bittersweet gift in the wake of a tragedy. But if one is never able to get past it, then they most likely won't gain anything at all.

In the three days she had been staying at Lucas's, Elle did not really do much of anything but lose herself in her thoughts. Not that there was much to do anyway, considering she didn't spend her days working at Brooke's anymore. That was something Elle _didn't _like to think about; how she had ruined her relationship with Brooke's family forever. But no matter how painful it was to reflect on, Elle was no match for her wandering mind.

When she wasn't wallowing in her miserable self pity, however, Elle often found herself thinking about her current situation. She thought about how Lindsey worked long hours, almost as though she was trying to stay away from the house as much as possible. Elle thought about the awkward relationship she had with her father, how things were still extremely uncomfortable whenever they would interact. She feared that the tension in this house would suffocate them all eventually.

But despite the discomfort with the adults, Elle had found an unexpected ally in Grace. Grace, it transpired, was actually pleasant company. Having been grounded, she spent hours with Elle watching TV or talking about meaningless things. The previous evening, Grace had even tried to make Elle a Facebook page, but Elle had declined, telling Grace that she'd never use it. That hadn't been the whole truth, but Elle didn't want to say that she didn't have any friends to find on Facebook in the first place. But Elle appreciated having Grace to keep her company, for the light hearted, bubbly, positive girl often kept Elle from feeling so miserable all the time.

Elle had never been one to live in the past. For her, everything was about moving forward, running away without looking back. But ever since Avery's accident, Elle couldn't help but let her heart ache for the wonderful thing she had going with Brooke's family, wishing that she could take it all back and just have everything go back to the way it was. Elle missed her family, and the more she missed them, the more she hated herself for being the cause of all this agony in the first place.

She often wondered what would happen when she finally saw Brooke again. What would Brooke say to Elle? What Elle would say to _her? _How on earth could she express how incredibly sorry she was? And would Brooke ever be able to forgive her? And what about Matt and Julian? What about little Joey? Did he know what happened? Hell, what about _Avery_? Would any of them ever be able to forgive her?

Sometimes she would succumb to thinking about Avery's accident, during which she would do nothing but close her eyes and pray for something, _anything, _to take her mind off the subject.

She was sitting on the futon in Lucas's office when a sudden knocking pulled her back out of her thoughts. Glancing up, Elle saw Lucas standing in the doorway, looking back down at her almost nervously.

"Can I come in?" He asked quietly, shifting on his feet.

"It's, uh, your house," Elle said, immediately wishing that she hadn't worded it that way. She had meant for it to sound like a joke, but the tension in her voice strained the sentence, making her sound almost disrespectful. She didn't want Lucas to think that she was a rude bratty snot. Momentarily closing her eyes, Elle shook her head. "Uh…sorry. I'm sorry. Of course you can come in."

Lucas gave Elle a nervous smile before joining her on the futon. Since Elle had been staying in this house, their interactions had been timid, brief and forced. They walked on eggshells around each other, not really knowing what was and wasn't appropriate to say. Elle was painfully, forcibly reminded of the way she had often acted around her mother, the tentative actions and one dimensional conversation that had kept Peyton from teetering over the edge. Elle was frustrated by the awkward, meek interactions with Lucas. It wasn't supposed to be like this with both parents. But instead of trying to fix the situation, Elle only grew more closed off from him; a vicious circle that she couldn't seem to get out of.

But something felt different as they sat there, side by side on the futon. They hadn't been this close to each other since the night of Avery's accident. That thought only made Elle tense up as she felt his arm brush against his, hating herself and everything else in the world for making this situation so uncomfortable.

"I want to show you something." Lucas said, the calmness in his voice causing Elle's muscles to relax slightly as he continued.

"Your mom drew this for me when we were in college. Back when we were still …together... when the distance was the only thing keeping us apart." Lucas paused, sounding almost disappointed; the same disappointment Elle was used to feeling when thinking about Peyton, when thinking about her waste of a life. "Anyway…she was in LA and I was here, and the separation had been hard for us…especially after everything we had gone through during our senior year…with her birth mother and the psycho stalker and the shooting and Dan…all we wanted to do was be together."

He handed her a thick piece of paper, roughly the size of a CD case. Elle felt something in her stomach tighten as she took it, recognizing the artist's hand immediately. Her mother had always had a very distinct artistic style.

"She used to mail these drawings to me about once a week that first year we were apart. Some were happy, some were sad, or angry, or sarcastic…but they were always Peyton. And it used to make things so much easier, because I would get one of these drawings in the mail and it would be like a piece of Peyton coming back to me." Lucas looked down at the drawing held by Elle's nimble fingers. "I want you to have it."

It was strange, holding this piece of paper in her hands. Elle had spent years of her childhood admiring her mother's artistic talent, flipping through Peyton's numerous sketchbooks and portfolios. A lot of the drawings had been dark, moody and unhappy, but Elle had always been so taken with the way Peyton was able to capture such things on to a piece of paper. But after Peyton had died, after her things had been moved into the basement, Elle never looked at her mother's work again. It had been years since she had even thought about Peyton's art, let alone seen it.

The drawing was of a night sky, with two cityscapes on each end of the picture, separated by space and emptiness. Two ghost-like figures loomed over each city, each reaching an arm out to the other, their hands meeting in the middle. It took Elle a moment to realize that the cities just so happened to be Tree Hill, on the right, and Los Angeles, on the left. The figures, she assumed, were Lucas and Peyton; Peyton's ghost figure hovering above the LA skyline and Lucas's erupting from above Tree Hill. Their wispy ghost fingers intertwined in the middle, an obvious artistic metaphor. The bottom of the picture, like most of Peyton's drawings, was captioned with small, curly letters that resembled the ghost-like figures in the sky.

_sharing different heartbeats  
in one night_

A sudden combination of longing and sadness pricked behind her eyes. Elle recognized the song, vaguely remembering a time before Peyton had gotten sick, when her mother used to quietly sing it to her before going to bed. It was a song that Elle hadn't heard or thought about in ages, but she remembered the lullaby that used to help her go to sleep when she was young.

Elle was unnerved by the fact that this sudden reminder of Peyton did not make her angry, but sad. Elle should have felt the resentment bubbling in her chest the second Lucas showed her that piece of paper. But strangely, Elle didn't feel angry at all. She was saddened by her mother's drawing, saddened that the two ghost-like figures would be reaching out to each other for the rest of time, never to be reunited again.

"Thank you, Lucas." Blinking, Elle looked back up. He was studying her with an expression that she could not read; his blue eyes squinting at her as though he was lost in the depths of his inner mind. "This is…this means a lot. Thank you."

Lucas nodded, smiling sadly. The air hung heavy between them, awkwardly waiting for one of them to speak. They had both been so tentative around each other for the past few days, both hiding behind the protective walls they had put up around their hearts. Lucas stood up, making to exit the room. But when he reached the doorway, he faced her again, looking at her with the same expression that she still couldn't read.

"You're…scared of me." He said softly.

Elle blinked. From what she had gathered about her father in the last few days, she could safely say that Lucas was one of the most introverted, non-confrontational people she had ever met; to hear him saying something so suddenly straight forward had her taken aback.

"A lot of people are afraid these days_._" Elle replied, not sounding accusatory, but speaking as though she agreed with him.

"I know that I pushed you away. I know that you were hurt by my cowardice." Lucas leaned against the frame of the door, shaking his head, "I was afraid to associate myself with someone that would remind me of something that was so hard to think about."

Elle turned the picture over and over in her hands as Lucas continued, "But then I realized that you and I are a lot alike. I realized that I was doing the same thing to you as my father did to me. And I couldn't let myself become the man I still resent to this day...and I definitely couldn't let you go on feeling the same way about your father."

He stepped over to the futon and kneeled down in front of her, placing a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry for the way I acted, Elle. I hope you can forgive me for taking so long to come around."

Elle looked at him, reading the true and sincere sorrow in his eyes. It was then that she saw her own feelings being reflected back out at her, as though she was gazing into a mirror. This man was lost, confused and broken; trying to fix what he had wronged and at the same time...trying to fix himself. It sounded all too familiar...Elle had never in her life been able to relate to anyone in so many ways.

"Since I've been here, they've all been telling me how great she was...you know, Brooke, Nathan, Haley...they'd always say what a good person my mom was." Elle sighed. "And it would always just really piss me off, because I knew they just didn't understand."

The past few days had been agonizing; misery looming over the aftermath of a sudden tragedy. But maybe they were finally breaking through, their sudden apparent similarities finally helping them get past the timid, awkward conversations.

"I kept telling myself that they just couldn't understand my resentment and my anger. But that made me feel more lost than ever, especially after I found out about you, and how my mother kept us apart." Elle stared down at the drawing in her hands. "I hated her for that. And I've been moping around and feeling sorry for myself, thinking that _nobody_ could possibly understand how badly she hurt me."

She felt Lucas's grip on her arm tighten ever so slightly. Recovery is unpredictable; often disappointingly slower than expected. But maybe a progression had just been made.

"But now...now I realize how self centered I've been acting." Elle looked up at him, their identical eyes meeting. "I never thought about what it did to you."

* * *

"Careful getting out of your booster seat, sweetheart!" Brooke said, as she pulled the car into the driveway. "You're going to hurt your arm. That cast only does so much!"

Avery had been discharged earlier that morning, after three very uneventful days in the recovery room. Brooke finally felt as though she could breathe again as she drove home from the hospital, thankful that she'd finally be sleeping in her own bed tonight. Things were finally falling back to place. Julian had returned to work that morning, and Brooke planned on doing the same just as soon as Avery was well enough to go back to daycare.

After gingerly helping Avery out of her car seat, Brooke followed the very excited little girl up the walk and onto the porch. Avery, who sported a large, pink cast on her arm, bounced eagerly on her toes, waiting for Brooke to open the door.

"You happy to be home, babygirl?" Brooke smiled down at her daughter once they were inside.

"Yes!" Avery cried happily, "But…I am gonna miss bein' able to move my bed up and down."

"Oh, yeah, you did enjoy that, huh?" Brooke laughed, "Maybe we'll buy a reclining chair for the playroom."

"Momma, where is Elle?" Avery asked suddenly, causing every muscle in Brooke's body to immediately tighten.

"Elle had to go away for a while, sweetie." Brooke exhaled slowly, hoping that she wouldn't have to explain this in great detail to a four year old.

"But why?" Avery was as persistent as any young child should be. Brooke should have known.

"Because she broke the rules. She wasn't watching you when you ran into the street. She is in very big trouble." Brooke said, trying to put the situation into words that Avery would understand.

Avery's eyes widened. "Do I have to go away if I get in trouble?"

"Oh, no, honey! No, you won't ever get sent away." Brooke quickly assured her; then kneeled down to Avery's level, brushing a hand against the little girl's cheek. "See, I'm not Elle's parent. And when Elle got in trouble, she went over to Uncle Lucas's house, because Uncle Lucas is Elle's daddy. Does that make sense, sweetheart?"

Avery nodded slowly. "When is she coming back?"

Brooke sighed sadly, standing back up. "I don't know, baby."

Avery followed as Brooke walked into the kitchen and glanced out the window, where she saw Matt and Joey outside on the back dock. All of her kids were at home again. They were all safe. Brooke should have felt more at peace with that thought; but an unsettlingly unhappy feeling still gnawed at her stomach. Something about this house was still empty. Something still did not feel whole. Brooke thought of the empty guest room upstairs. She didn't have to ask herself what was missing.

Recovery is unpredictable; often disappointingly slower than expected. Brooke couldn't help but marvel at her daughter's recovery from the accident, thinking it was funny that Avery, who had been hurt the most, wasn't the one who was still acting broken.

"Momma?" Avery spoke up again, "Do we still love Elle?"

Brooke looked back out the window so her daughter wouldn't see the tears that had suddenly pooled in her eyes. "Yeah, baby. Yeah, we do."

* * *

Elle found Lucas's front porch a strangely comforting place to spend her time. There was enough going on outside to distract her from getting too lost in her thoughts. This street was a lot busier than Brooke's had been; kids rode by on bikes, people jogged, walked dogs, walked with friends. The old man who lived next door spent an incredibly long time cutting his grass with an old push mower, and the cat from the driveway across the street was a frequent visitor, rubbing his soft head against Elle's legs. She could easily sit here for hours, watching people walk past the house, going about their day.

Ever since she was little, Elle had always loved to observe others. It came naturally, this interest in what the people around her were doing. Elle used to make stories up in her head about the people she saw around her; maybe the old man in the striped shirt was combing the streets to find his missing dentures. Maybe the man racing down the street with a bouquet of flowers was in a hurry to get home to his wife after a misunderstood argument over the phone. But as Elle got older, the stories she made up became more and more bitter, sad and dark. Suddenly, the man with the flowers had just gotten rejected by the woman he publicly proposed to, and was running away before he had to hear the crowd's pitying whispers. Elle had liked to think that she wasn't the only one with a story so heartbreaking.

The Tree Hill High cross country team passed the house just as Elle looked up from petting the neighbor's cat at her feet. It was then that she noticed none other than Matt Baker approaching her from the sidewalk. With a sharp intake of breath, Elle's eyes met his for the first time in days. She stood up, her mind racing. What was he doing here?

She had gone over so many different scenarios in her head, from running into Julian at the grocery store to going back to the house and sobbing on their front porch, begging for forgiveness, but none of the situations had any of them coming to _her. _

"Matt," She breathed, as though someone had just let out all of the air in her lungs. "Hi."

"Hey." He said quietly, giving her a half hearted smile.

Feeling strangely self conscious, Elle hugged her arms around herself, trying to figure out what on earth he was doing here. Did he come here to tell her that they never wanted to see her again? He couldn't have come here to cut ties with her completely, could he?

"How…uh…how have you been?" Elle asked, before mentally smacking herself. How has he been? Terrible! His little sister just got hit by a car! _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Matt, however, shrugged, looking unabashed by the question. "I'm alright." A pause. "So…you've been crashing with Lucas?"

"Yeah." Elle nodded, glancing at the house behind her. "Weird, right?"

Elle hated how forced this conversation was, and she hated that it was with someone who she used to be able to talk to about everything. Matt had been the one to bring Elle out of her shell, but now she just wanted to retreat and hide away with her shame and sorrow, knowing that things were awkward right now because of her.

"Yeah." Matt nodded back, putting his hands into the pockets of his shorts. Elle looked away.

After another uncomfortable pause, Elle mustered up the courage to look him in the eye. "What are you doing here, Matt?"

Matt sighed sadly. "I was concerned. I…had to come see that you were okay."

A little glimmer of hope flickered in her chest at his words. Maybe they could work things out right here and now. Maybe he would forgive her and she could go back with them. Maybe she still had a shot at redemption.

"How's Avery?" she asked, realizing that she hadn't heard anything on Avery's condition since yesterday morning.

"Good. She's good. Came home today, pink cast and all." Matt gave a small laugh, "She wasn't even home for ten minutes before she gathered us all in the living room to watch her put on a one armed puppet show from behind the couch."

Elle giggled, her chest expanding. "She sounds like she's still her old self!"

"When Joey complained that there was only one puppet performing at a time, Avery started doing it with her feet. It didn't really work, but it was definitely quality entertainment." Matt laughed again, as Elle joined in. They were laughing together. For a split second, everything between them was normal again. For a moment, everything was okay.

But then the laughter stopped, and silence hung between them once more. Matt's smile was gone from his face, replaced by a look of uncertainty, as though he wasn't sure why he was here.

"Matt," Elle broke the silence, her voice suddenly strained. "I'm _sorry._"

"I know." Matt said quietly. That answer wasn't good enough for her. She needed to hear him say that he forgave her. She neededhim to tell her that everything was okay.

"I am _so_ sorry. I'm so sorry." Elle stepped closer to him, placing her hands on his arms in desperation. "Please, please believe me. _Please._"

"I do, Elle." Matt sighed. "I know that you never meant for any of this to happen. I know that you never wanted to hurt Avery. I know that it was an accident, and I know you feel horrible about it."

Elle's eyes filled with tears as Matt rubbed his own hands on her arms. "I know you're sorry, Elle. It's…it's just going to take a while before this is okay."

He kissed the top of her head before stepping back, Elle's watery eyes still fixed on the ground. "I should go."

Elle didn't look up until he was down by the sidewalk, his retreating figure blurred by the tears clouding her vision. She blinked several times as she sat back down on the porch steps, her chest heavy and tight.

Once, when she was probably six years old, Elle had curiously looked through Brooke's suitcase in the guest room. She had found a pair of beautiful chandelier diamond earrings and took them back in to her room to play with. Elle had sat in front of her mirror for a half an hour, holding Brooke's earrings up to her unpierced ears, before deciding to tape them to her earlobes to see how they would look. The tape had worked, so well that Elle had forgotten she had the earrings with her before going outside to play. She only remembered that she had forgotten to remove the earrings from her ears after she realized that one was missing.

Elle had spent the entire afternoon searching the backyard for Brooke's missing earring without any luck; and when Elle was called in for dinner, she had been too terrified to go inside. Brooke, however, came outside almost immediately, asking Elle why she didn't want to come in. Elle had burst into tears, telling Brooke that she stole the diamond earrings out of her stuff and lost one in the grass. Brooke had smiled and reached into her pocket, pulling a diamond earring out of her jeans. Elle had been shocked; how had Brooke found it?

"_It was on the stairs in the house." _ Brooke had said to a wide eyed, tearful Elle. "_I think you learned your lesson about taking things without asking, huh?" _

Elle had nodded, pulling the tape off of her other earlobe and giving the other earring back to Brooke. Brooke had took Elle's hands and told her that she was disappointed that Elle had gone through her stuff without asking. She'd said that it wasn't okay to take other people's things without permission. Brooke brushed the tears off of Elle's cheeks with her hand, as little Elle had continued to sniffle, apologizing over and over, saying that she'd never, ever do it again.

"_I know, honey. I forgive you." _Brooke had then kissed Elle's cheek and given her a hug.

"_But are you still mad at me?" _Elle had asked.

"_No, sweetheart. I'm not mad. I said I forgive you." _Brooke had replied, _"You forgive people when they apologize for doing something wrong. When you forgive someone, it means that you're not mad at them anymore, and that they can stop being sorry. That way everyone can just be happy again." _

A light breeze brushed her shoulders. It was interesting how forgiveness used to be such a simple thing. It had been a lifetime ago. But she had still been herself. Brooke had still been Brooke. Their relationship had existed even back then. Elle was suddenly overcome with sadness. It was heartbreaking, how the two people from that memory were the same two people they were now. They were the same people, but so many things had changed. Or maybe they were the ones who changed. Maybe they weren't the same people at all. It didn't seem fair that forgiveness was so difficult now, when it used to be almost expected from the people she loved. Brooke had taken Elle to get her ears pierced that very next day.

Elle exhaled slowly, her mind still reeling from Matt's unexpected visit. It had only been minutes since his departure when the loud rumbling of an engine filled her ears. Looking up, Elle could hardly believe her eyes as Moe pulled up to the curb in the Mystery Machine. Moe cut the engine, silencing the loud rumbling, and stepped out onto the sidewalk; the sudden decrease of noise rang in Elle's ears. Her heart beating with the shock of another unexpected visitor, Elle shook her head in disbelief as Moe approached the porch.

"_How_ do you keep doing that?" Elle breathed, remembering that this was the second time that Moe had just happened to pull up to the house Elle was staying at, without Elle knowing how in the world she had known where to go.

"Well, hello to you too, Elle-bell." Moe raised an eyebrow in amusement, seating herself down next to Elle.

"How the hell did you find me here?" Elle asked, still surprised.

"Geez, chill out, chill out." Moe said airily, "We're packin' it up today. I came to say goodbye. I drove up to casa de castle earlier, lookin' for you, and this hot DILF told me that you were staying at your _dad's _house. He was a nice dude; even wrote the address and shit down for me."

"Julian." Elle's stomach lurched.

"So, uh, this is daddy's house, huh?" Moe glanced around the porch. "Kind of a downgrade, if you ask me."

Elle's shoulders sagged as she dropped her gaze to the ground. Moe scooted a little closer, and Elle knew that she'd have to tell Moe about everything that happened in the past few days. Elle had been dealing with the events in the aftermath of Avery's accident, but she had not once voiced aloud what happened. Everyone she had interacted with since that moment had all already known what she did. This would be the first time that Elle would have to actually _say _what exactly she had done.

"Elle," Moe said, the airy cheerfulness gone from her voice, "What the hell happened?"

Elle took a deep breath before plunging into her story, starting right after Moe had given her that blunt and drove away. Moe's habit of not showing emotion during a serious conversation made it easier for Elle to speak about her guilt, to speak about how terrible she really felt. Elle told Moe how confused she was, how she was feeling so many things at once and she didn't know where her head was anymore. She told Moe how she was finally starting to have a relationship with her father, and she told Moe how badly she missed staying at Brooke's.

"And, uh, I was actually going to ask if I can come with you today. You know, get out of here for a while until things calm down." Elle finished, taking a deep breath and looking at Moe.

Moe looked back at her, and for the first time, Elle saw pity in the girl's dark eyes. "You can't come with me."

"They're all such good people, and I come in and ruin everything for them. I need to go away for awhile to give them all some time to heal from what I've broken." Elle said, her voice just above a whisper. "Please, Moe, please let me come with you."

"No. You can't run away from this shit." Moe shook her head.

"I'm not running!" Elle stood up. "I'm just giving some time for the dust to settle!"

"If you leave now, you won't come back. Because you'll run, and move on, and when you finally feel better about all this shit, it will be too late." Moe said, "One day you're gonna wake up and realize that you've been gone for too long to go back."

"It won't be like that." Elle didn't know if she was trying to prove that to Moe or herself.

"Look, kid, you have it good here, and you don't even realize how fuckin' lucky that is!" Moe stood up as well, pointing out at the street. "It's different out there in the real world. And you, you're not ready for the real world."

"I'm- I'm-_what?_" Elle spluttered, infuriated, "I'm not _ready_? After all the shit that's happened to me, you don't think that I can handle the '_real world'_? Seriously? In case you haven't noticed, I've been taking care of myself since I could walk!"

"See, that's just it, Elle-bell. You have this big idea in your head about how capable you are, but you're so fuckin' clueless about life!" Moe gestured wildly as she spoke, "You'll get out there and be so damn over your head that you'll need a fuckin' life preserver. And I'm not about to babysit you or keep you out of trouble if you tag along."

Elle seethed, forming her slightly irrational angry thoughts into words. "Why did you even come here, Moe? You know what- why did you even befriend me in the first place? Did you ever even give a shit about me? Did you ever think about anyone but yourself?"

Moe faced her, her voice cool and more serious than Elle had ever heard. "I am a warrior, Elle. I have complete and absolute trust in myself. I don't have to need anybody to be okay. And if that makes me selfish, then so be it."

Elle blinked, taken aback by Moe's tone. Moe took a step closer to her, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You wanna know why I befriended you all those years ago? Because I saw the same lost, scared little girl I used to be. I saw myself in you. I went through hell and back dealing with everything on my own, and I'd have been _damned _if I was about to let someone else go through all that shit alone. But you _still _don't get it. You're still as lost and confused as ever."

"What are you talking about?" Elle cried.

"Don't let the shit people say and do affect _your _life! Shit happens! And yeah, a lot of unbelievable bullshit's happened to you over the years, but that's just how it is sometimes! That's life! Life's gonna kick your ass and run you down and all you can do is learn to be stronger than all the shit that tries to fuck you over!" Moe threw her hands in the air. "Jesus Christ, Elle! That's what I've been trying to get you to fuckin' realize for years! Why do you keep robbing yourself of a chance at moving on?"

Elle was silent and wide eyed as Moe continued to speak, her voice powerful and determined.

"You're strong, Elle, strong for everybody but yourself. And until you realize that, you're never gonna get past any of this shit. The more you run away and lie to yourself, the more broken you're gonna get. Through all the bullshit and constant change in life, the one thing you'll _always _have is yourself." Moe turned on her heel, walking back to the van in powerful strides. "So stop being broken. You're not doing yourself any favors."

Elle stood there, at the bottom of the porch, still unable to speak. Moe opened the door and climbed into the mystery machine, leaning out the open window.

"Change is inevitable. It's how you can handle that change that matters." Moe gave a curt nod before revving up the engine. "I'll see you, kid."

Elle said nothing as Moe pulled away from the curb, the loud rumble of the van growing softer as it disappeared further and further down the street.

Recovering in the wake of a tragedy can be as difficult as the tragedy itself. Recovery is unpredictable; often disappointingly slower than expected. Nobody can ever tell someone the perfect time to pick themselves back up after a fall. Nobody can tell anyone else the perfect time to start progressing after something terrible happens.

But they sure as hell can influence the outcome of one's process in doing so themselves.

* * *

**So, I guess this is where things begin to finally progress again. We've been scraping against the angsty rock bottom for quite a few chapters now, and we can't stay down there forever. But that doesn't mean that I won't throw more surprises in here and there :)**

**Anyway, like always...let me know how you feel about this chapter! Luke and Elle made progress, Brooke is...what is Brooke doing? Elle had a run in with Matt...and Moe. Oh, Moe. I'd love to hear your take on everything! Did it evoke any emotions from you personally? What do you want to see happen next? :)**

**Thanks again, everyone. if I could come and personally hug every single one of you, I would. **

**Take care! Love, Brennan :)  
**


	21. Chapter 21

**All of my reviewers are just absolutely wonderful. How can I thank you all enough? :) **

**So guess what guys? My mom just bought a new laptop! nothing too special, but I DO have something to type on again! YAH! :D And thank you to a-non lurker for introducing me to google docs! ahh! :D**

**Anyway, happy reading :)  
**

* * *

Two months ago, Elle never would have been able to picture herself in this situation.

She was shooting baskets with her father in his driveway in Tree Hill, North Carolina. Two months ago, Elle would have laughed out loud at how ludicrous that all sounded.

But that just goes to show how much things can change.

As her stay at Lucas's hit the one week mark, Elle was slowly beginning to open herself up to him more and more, creating a unique, delicate relationship between them. They had shared several quiet heart to hearts, the kind Elle missed having with Brooke and Matt, and their timid interactions began to feel more and more natural.

Natural, of course, with the exception of shooting baskets.

Elle rolled her eyes as she missed the hoop by several feet. Lucas laughed, catching the ball in his hands. "I guess you didn't inherit the Scott basketball gene."

"I tried to tell you…," Elle sighed airily, shrugging.

"I was just holding out some hope that at least one of my children had a knack for the game." Lucas laughed again, "Grace hasn't ever shown any interest in it either."

"So you played basketball in high school, right?" Elle asked, "You and Nathan?"

"Yep. The Tree Hill Ravens." Lucas replied, dribbling slowly, "It was a big part of our lives. That's how everything changed for us."

Elle nodded, "Hence the title, _An Unkindness of Ravens._"

Elle had gone back and read _Ravens _several times since Grace had unknowingly handed it to her in Brooke's store over a month ago. It was her own personal history book into the life her mother once had, her only proof that Peyton hadn't always been a sick, sad, miserable person. Her heart would ache while reading Lucas's words, especially any passage describing how great Peyton was. Elle still hated that she seemed to be the only person here that didn't get to know that side of her mother.

But lately, Elle was surprised that the thing that was beginning to tug at her heartstrings the hardest was the fact that this woman, with all the potential and spirit in the world, had gotten so sick in the first place. Suddenly, it wasn't always about her own personal resentment. Elle was slowly beginning to see how terrible must have been for those who had known her back then … how difficult it must have been for Brooke and Grandpa Larry to watch Peyton's life fall apart.

"Right." Lucas smiled. "I miss playing. I had to stop, you know, due to my heart condition."

"Yeah, I read about that. In your book." Elle said, as Lucas made a jump shot.

"Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. HCM. It's hereditary, you know. My dad had it." Lucas said, "I'd feel really good if we got you tested."

"Actually…," Elle's eyebrows furrowed, a realization dawning on her, "I have been tested. Brooke took me when I was like eight or nine. I didn't know what it was for, but…huh… it makes sense now."

"I skipped my medicine once, and ended up having a heart attack after the state championship game my senior year." Lucas gave a small laugh, "Although, I had just seen Haley get hit by a car. That's enough to give anyone a heart attack."

Elle didn't know whether to laugh at that or not, because it didn't sound funny at all. She just shook her head at the insanity of it all.

"And that night, ah, just so happened to be the night I started dating Peyton." Lucas added, some sort of afterthought that he couldn't seem to hold back.

"_In that moment, my triumph was not a state championship but simple clarity_," Elle said slowly, reciting the lines she had memorized by heart. "_the realization that we'd always been meant for each other and every instinct to the contrary_…,"

"…_had simply been a denial of the following truth_...," Lucas trailed off, as though he couldn't voice the rest of those words aloud. They were silent for a few moments, the only noise between them coming from the rhythmic dribbling of Lucas's basketball.

"She used to read it all the time." Elle finally spoke up, "My mom. I'd always see her lost in the pages of the same story, over and over and over…At the time, I didn't know what it was about…but I knew that it was something important to her."

Lucas held the basketball under one arm and looked at Elle, his eyes narrowed and brooding. "She…she got married, when you were young, right?"

Elle studied Lucas's face before answering. He looked concerned, in an almost nervous sort of way. "Yeah. Jonathan Cassidy. But he, uh, died when I was six."

"But he was good to her, right? She was happy with him?"

"To be honest, Lucas, I really don't even remember him that well anymore. I just know that after he died, things started getting really bad with my mom. All the memories I have of him are so vague that I don't even know if they're real." Elle said, trying not to sound as sad as she suddenly felt. "I can't hear his voice or remember what he smelled like. I know I loved him though. And I know he made my mom happy, because I _can_ still remember the way she used to smile when I was really young. I can still remember a time when she was happy…even if they're just split-second flashes of vague memories that might not have even existed at all."

Lucas didn't speak, but smiled at her sadly as though he couldn't find the right words to say. Maybe he couldn't find any words at all.

"I always wonder about what would have happened if she had told you about the pregnancy. So many things would have been different, you know? Maybe everything would have ended up better." Elle paused, realizing that she had never said these words out loud to anyone before. "Maybe if she had told you…if she hadn't been so selfish…maybe she'd still be alive."

"I know." Lucas said quietly, looking up into the sky. "I think about that every day."

_Then _

"_Who the hell do you think you are?" _

"_Peyton, honey, please-," Larry reached his arms out toward his daughter, his eyes shining. Peyton took a step backward, pushing his arms away with her own. _

_Six year old Elle sat at the top of the stairs, watching the argument erupt down in the living room. She saw Brooke through the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the refrigerator with her face in her hands. Larry had arrived at the house some twenty minutes earlier, stating that he was going to be staying with them for a while, much to Peyton's displeasure. _

"_No. No! You don't get to waltz in here and expect me to welcome you with open arms!" Peyton cried, "My husband died TWO WEEKS ago! The last thing I need right now is to be dealing with you!" _

"_Sweetheart, I want to be here for you!" Larry tried to reason, "I want to be here for you and Elle while you both heal from this!" _

"_Oh, that's real nice, Dad. That's SO great that you suddenly want to be here for me." Peyton's eyes narrowed. "I haven't seen you since my wedding, over FOUR YEARS ago. Why the hell do you suddenly want to be here now?" _

"_Peyton, I'm so sorry that I've been distant. But please…," Larry paused, hanging his head. "When I heard about what happened, when Brooke called and asked me to-," _

"_Brooke? Brooke called you?" Peyton's face reddened in indignation. "Well that's great. That's just freakin' great!" _

"_Brooke called because she's worried about you! She called me to come and help!" Larry said, "Please, baby, I love you, and I want to be here for you." _

"_Yeah, you want to be here now. But what about all those times when I was growing up? Where were you then, huh? Where were you when Ellie died?" Peyton's voice shook as tears began to spill out of her eyes. "Where were you when I got attacked by a psycho stalker TWICE? Where were you when I experimented with cocaine or got drugged at a college party? Hell, I had to get shot in the fucking leg for you to spend a few weeks at home with me!" _

_Elle saw Brooke's back slowly slide down the refrigerator until she was seated on the kitchen floor, her face still in her hands._

"_So much shit happened to me and I needed my dad! I needed you! But you were never around!" Peyton bent over and placed her hands on her knees, overcome with a wave of angry sobs. _

"_Peyton…," Larry stepped over to her and put a hand on her back. The moment his palm brushed her trembling shoulder blades, however, Peyton snapped back up, glaring at him with wild, bloodshot eyes. Larry made to grab her shoulders, but Peyton resisted, trying to push him away as she continued to sob uncontrollably. _

"_YOU WEREN'T THERE WHEN I NEEDED YOU!" Peyton exploded, her voice thick from crying. She pounded a fist into his chest as they continued to struggle against each other. "WHY ARE YOU HERE NOW? WHERE WERE YOU THEN?"_

_Suddenly, all of the fight seemed to leave Peyton's body as she fell into Larry's arms and bawled. He held her tight as her cries rang through the house, a miserable soundtrack that had been playing regularly for the past two weeks. Larry stroked his daughter's hair, pausing for a moment only to wipe away his own tears before they fell into Peyton's curls. _

_From the top of the stairs, little Elle reached up and touched her cheek, realizing that she had tears on her face as well. _

Now

Elle and Lucas were still in the driveway when Nathan jogged up to the house. Elle shrank against the garage door as he approached, remembering that Nathan was yet another person that she hadn't seen since before she had shattered the Baker family's lives. She was forcibly reminded of how she had felt around Matt, Lindsey and even Lucas at first; Elle's sudden insecurity around these people since Avery's accident plaguing her like a virus.

Things hadn't ever been awkward with Nathan before…but the last time she had seen him, he had been putting his wasted fourteen-year old into the back of his car. Her shame and guilt over what she had done made run-ins with those whom she'd bonded with during her stay in Tree Hill awkward, uncomfortable and intimidating.

"Hey, Nate!" Lucas greeted his brother, passing the ball. Nathan caught it and shot; the ball sailing across the driveway and into the hoop with a satisfying _swish. _"Old man's still got it."

"Last time I checked, Luke, you're older." Nathan raised an eyebrow, grinning.

"Alright, _little _brother," Lucas smirked, "Game to eleven? I haven't played all summer."

"Actually, I was hoping to see if Elle wanted to go for a walk." Nathan glanced over at her as her stomach lurched, her back still pressed against the garage door.

When she was a child, Elle's favorite picture book was a story about a sad, lonely wild boar who lived in the jungle. All the other jungle animals were afraid of him, thinking that he was an ugly, terrifying monster. But the boar was not terrifying; just painfully shy, heartbroken that all the other animals in the jungle didn't want to be his friend. So the boar lived alone, thinking he was a monster, feeling too insecure about himself to try and convince the other animals that he wasn't terrifying at all.

Elle wasn't comparing herself to a boar, but she felt terrified at the idea of taking a walk with Nathan, terrified that he would be as disgusted with her as she was with herself. She was too ashamed of herself to feel comfortable around people who knew about the terrible thing she had done. Suddenly, she was the monster, alone and isolated in the jungle.

They were both looking at her, waiting for an answer. Elle glanced from Nathan to Lucas; a triangle of identical blue eyes. "Uh…yeah, okay. Sure."

Eventually, the boar saved the life of a friendly zebra that was stuck in the mud, and the zebra convinced the jungle that the boar was really nice after all. If only everything could end as happy as they did in children's books. If only redemption was that easy.

The sun beat down on her shoulders as they walked along the sidewalk, Elle awkwardly waiting for Nathan to speak. When he didn't, Elle closed her eyes before voicing the apology she'd been dying to give to him since they had left Lucas's.

"Nathan, um, about Hannah and the party…," She said, looking at the ground. "Look, I'm really sorry."

With her eyes still fixed on the sidewalk, she heard him give a small sigh before speaking. "You're not a child, Elle, and I'm not going to whack you on the knuckles and scold you about what happened. I think you're mature enough to realize when you did something wrong."

Elle looked back up at him as he flashed her a small smile, "Besides, I think Lindsey and Haley grilled you enough. Thank you, I appreciate the apology."

"You'd think if I was mature enough to realize when I do something wrong, I wouldn't do it in the first place." Elle said dryly, "I don't think all the apologizing in the world can make up for what I've done."

"You know, Elle, I see a lot of myself in you." Nathan said, "I used to be angry at the world, furious at my selfish parents. I clung to that resentment, because forgiving them just seemed too hard. I acted all tough, but the truth is, I was just really lost and afraid. I was an asshole to everyone because it was just easier to be angry about everything than to be sad."

Elle found herself gazing at the ground again as Nathan continued, her lips pressed tightly together as she listened to his words.

"I did a lot of things without thinking. I hurt a lot of people. But then, those who I had hurt the most- Lucas, Haley, Brooke, Peyton… all found it in their hearts to forgive me." Nathan put a hand on her shoulder. "Redemption's never impossible, Elle, especially with these people."

Elle met his eyes once more, her jaw set. "But what if I can't forgive myself?"

_Then_

"_Momma?" Elle said quietly, appearing in Peyton's doorway. _

"_What is it?" came Peyton's feeble reply. Maybe she had tried to sound irritated, but Peyton's words were weighed down by exhaustion; emotionally drained from her breakdown with Larry earlier that afternoon. _

_Elle timidly stepped into the room, standing at her mother's bedside. After Peyton had cried out all of her anger earlier, Elle watched as Larry carried her mother up the stairs and into her room. They had exchanged a few quiet words that Elle didn't hear before Larry exited the room, his face stricken. Elle had looked up at him as his eyes snapped over in her direction and he smiled. She had spent a good portion of that afternoon getting to know her grandfather, as she watched him fix the leaky pipe under the sink that had been broken for years. _

"_Why are you so mad at Grandpa?" Elle asked softly, innocently, as Peyton sat up slowly in bed. _

"_A long time ago, Grandpa did a lot of things that hurt my feelings." Peyton gave a great sigh. "And I'm still mad at him about it." _

"_Did he say he was sorry?" Elle blinked. _

"_Yes. But it's not always that easy." Peyton frowned, shaking her head. "Just because someone apologized doesn't mean that everything automatically gets better." _

"_But maybe it can." Elle paused, tracing the threads of the bed sheet with her small finger. "Maybe sometimes we just have to forgive them 'cause we love them."_

Now

Two days ago, Brooke would have never been able to picture herself in this situation.

She stepped out of her car, making her way to the front door in long, confident strides. The last time she had been at Lucas's house, she had come here to tell him to let Elle into his life. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Everything before Avery's accident suddenly seemed like a lifetime ago. Now she was here to finally talk things over with Elle, something she now knew that she should have done a lot sooner.

Two days ago, Brooke would've just shaken her head at the thought of coming to see Elle.

But that just goes to show how much things can change.

Brooke wasn't sure if was that the initial shock of the accident had worn off, or that she couldn't move on from the accident until she did this, but in the last few days, she had done a lot of reflecting on the situation, finally coming to the realization of what it was that she had to do. It was time to progress. It was time to heal.

With her head held high, she knocked on the door. A few moments passed before the door swung open, and Brooke found herself looking directly into Elle's shocked face. Elle stood there, her mouth slightly open, her collarbones protruding as she held her breath.

"Hi." Brooke said, "Mind if I come in?"

Elle's eyes were wide as she nodded, stepping back. Brooke stepped through the doorway, breathing in the familiar scent of Lucas's house. "Where is everyone?"

"Uh…Lucas and Grace just went to the grocery store…and Lindsey's, uh, at work." Elle replied slowly, not meeting Brooke's eyes. Brooke studied Elle; watching how timid and afraid she was acting, shrinking away from Brooke as though Brooke was going to start screaming at her.

Brooke took a seat on the couch facing the TV as Elle still hovered uncertainly near the front door, chewing on her lip and fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt. Their eyes met as Brooke patted the seat cushion next to her, wordlessly asking Elle to join her on the couch. Elle swallowed before stepping over and taking a seat, every muscle in her body tense. She looked at Brooke with wide, fearful eyes, as though waiting for Brooke to start scolding her.

Brooke was reminded of when Joey had once broken a vase in the foyer. He had accidentally knocked it over while playing basketball in the house, something that was against the rules. Immediately after he had smashed the vase, Joey had taken off upstairs, hiding in his room without telling anybody what had just done. Brooke had found the vase when she had arrived home from work, and upon seeing the orange basketball next to the broken pieces, called Joey downstairs.

Joey had slunk down the stairs, his head hanging and his shoulders hunched, much like a small dog with its tail between its legs. His dark eyes had been filled with tears as he faced Brooke, knowing that he had done something very wrong, bracing for the punishment.

But Joey hadn't been shaking. Elle's shoulders trembled slightly as she continued to watch Brooke, the silence seeming to only feed to her nerves, her mind playing out the things she was expecting Brooke to say. Brooke frowned in concern as she looked back at Elle, but immediately softened her face, as to not come off as angry.

"I've done a lot of thinking this week." Brooke finally said, "I've been furious, sad, and hurt by your choices… but a bigger part of me hates myself for not working things out with you sooner. It was wrong of me to wait so long without talking to you about the accident. I shouldn't have waited this long to see you."

Elle continued to hold her breath as Brooke spoke, her blue eyes wider than ever. "Now…we have a lot of things to work out; a lot of rules to go over and a lot of feelings to mend. It's going to take a lot of work and a lot of time."

Brooke grabbed Elle's hand, feeling the girl's tension squeezing back. "But I was hoping that we can do that with you at home. I want you to come back, Elle. I shouldn't have let you leave." Brooke paused, her voice breaking. "That's not how families work."

Elle took one more wide-eyed, deep breath before her face suddenly crumbled, tears running down her cheeks. "How can still want me? I'm awful! I don't- I don't deserve it! Oh, Brooke, I'm so sorry for what I did! I'm so sorry!"

Brooke, shocked, immediately pulled Elle into her arms. Elle sobbed into her shoulder, choking out words between deep, quavering breaths. "I'm-I'm so sorry, Brooke! I'm s- I'm so sor- I'm _sorry_!"

"I know, sweetheart." Brooke murmered, as Elle snapped backward, out of Brooke's grasp.

"I hurt you all so badly! _How _do you still want me back?" Elle cried, "I don't deserve to go back with you! Not after this! I'm so awful, Brooke! I don't deserve it! How can you still love me after this?"

Brooke placed both of her hands on Elle's shaking shoulders, forcing the sobbing blonde to look at her as she spoke. "Anna-Elizabeth Sawyer, I want you to listen to me right now. _I love you._ You are a part of my family. And yes, you did something horrible. But that doesn't give you the right to stop being a part of our family."

Elle looked away as more tears fell down her cheeks. Brooke placed a hand on Elle's cheek, meeting her swollen blue eyes once more. "And we're going to work everything out, even if it's hard. I'm going to forgive you, and you're going to forgive yourself. We are a _family_, Elle, and that's the most important thing. We can get past everything else eventually. But I want you to know that I _love_ you. No matter how mad or upset I am at you, I will _always _love you."

Elle gave a tiny sob before Brooke pulled her back into her arms, "I love you too."

* * *

"Are you sure that futon wasn't too comfortable?" Lucas joked, "I mean, especially when comparing it with one of Brooke's pillowtop mattresses… I wouldn't want it to be the thing that makes you want to stay a little longer."

Elle smiled at him, zipping her duffel bag closed. "I actually didn't mind the futon. It was starting to grow on me."

Upon their return, Lucas and Grace had been surprised to find Brooke at their house, and even more surprised to see her and Elle embracing on the couch. Elle couldn't help but notice the slight hurt on her father's face when Brooke announced that Elle would be going back with her. After she packed up the last of her things, Elle stepped toward Lucas, who was standing in the doorway of the office.

"Thank you, Lucas, thank you so much for everything." Elle said softly, wrapping her thin arms around him. Lucas embraced her back, giving a satisfied sigh.

"I'll always be here for you." Lucas said, "I'm so thankful to have you in my life."

"Thank you," She whispered into his chest. Lucas planted a soft kiss into her curls before stepping back, smiling sadly. Elle's eyes shone as Lucas turned and walked down the hallway.

Grace appeared in the doorway not even five seconds later, looking mournful. "I don't want you to go."

"I have to, Grace." Elle gave her a reassuring smile, "I'm going to fix everything I have broken. I'm finally going to make everything better."

"I know." Grace said quietly, "_They _were your family first."

"Hey, come on." Elle grabbed Grace's hand. "Just because they're my family doesn't mean _you're_ not. You're my _sister_. And that means everything to me. And just because I'm moving back with Brooke doesn't mean I won't be around. I'll come see you all the time. I promise."

"You know, I've always hated being an only child. I always wanted a little sister to play with. You're not exactly what I pictured when I used to imagine myself having a sibling." Grace smiled, "It's better. You're better than any of my imaginary siblings."

Elle pulled Grace into the biggest, most grateful bear hug she could give. Grace squeezed right back, whispering into Elle's ear. "I'm so glad that you're my sister."

Elle and Grace walked hand in hand into the living room, where Brooke and Lucas stood waiting. Elle sensed the tension between the two of them, from a conflict that had never really been resolved. Brooke, however, smiled warmly as Elle entered the room, reaching a hand out to her. "You all set?"

Elle nodded, as Grace hugged her one last time. Lucas was next, embracing her like only a father could. Elle tried not to notice the sadness in his eyes. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I won't." She said, "I'll still be coming around. Thank you, again, Lucas, for everything."

"Of course." Lucas replied, "You'll always have a place here with us."

"I know." Elle said softly, before stepping back, adjusting the duffel bag over her shoulder. She smiled.

Something was erupting inside Elle's chest, a strong powerful feeling, a feeling that had been gone for so long that at first, Elle couldn't even recognize what it was. But as the grin on her face widened, Elle realized that this feeling radiating out of her heart was…hope. Suddenly, everything didn't seem so bleak and terrible. She knew that things were going to start getting better.

Elle looked at Lucas and Grace, so thankful that she had gotten to know them so well this week. Her new relationships with her sister and father almost made everything that had happened seem worth it. Maybe eventually, Elle would stop feeling so guilty about Avery's accident. Maybe everything would all be better eventually.

"C'mon." Brooke took Elle's hand as they stepped outside, "Let's go home."

Two hours ago, Elle never would have been able to picture herself in this situation.

She was going home. Things were finally going to get better, after a whole week of thinking that things couldn't possibly ever progress. Two hours ago, Elle wouldn't have been able to picture herself finally beginning to heal. Two hours ago, Elle never would have thought that things were going to be okay.

But that just goes to show how much things can change.

* * *

**Everyone's beginning to pick themselves up, mainly Elle and Brooke. What did you think? Pwwwease let me know how I'm doing! You all know how much I love getting opinions and feedback! :) Thanks again, everybody! I hope you all are enjoying your summers, and please take care! **

**Love, Brennan :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hello, hello :) As always, I was stunned by the generous amount of feedback I received! You all are incredibly kind! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much! :)**

**And another thing, some people are a little confused on the Lucas/Peyton history- so let me clarify. Everything that happened in seasons 1-4 is valid. Everything after that, in this story, didn't happen...EXCEPT for when Lucas proposed to Peyton in that LA hotel room. She said 'someday', blah, blah, he left, blah, blah. But that was the last time they ever saw each other, and of course, Peyton was pregnant. I hope that clears up any confusion! :) **

**Enjoy! :)**

**

* * *

**

Elle stepped out of the car and onto the cracked sidewalk, her heart beating in her throat. She wasn't ever supposed to come back to this place. Brooke _had_ to be crazy for taking her here.

The house looked exactly the same as she had left it. The grass had grown even more unkempt, but the same shingles were missing from the roof, and the same paint was peeling off the front door. So much had changed since she had last been here. But the house looked just the same, as though frozen in time; an unwanted reminder of a lifetime of painful memories.

Elle shot Brooke a wary look as Brooke joined her on the sidewalk. Brooke smiled reassuringly before looking up at the house as well. "Well…here we are."

After Brooke had picked her up from Lucas's the day before, Elle was alarmed when they did not head back to Brooke's, but drove straight to the airport. Brooke explained that there was one more place they needed to go before Elle moved back in with them. She said that there was something that they needed to do so Elle could truly feel like a member of the household. Elle continued to feel quite confused as Brooke simply ended the explanation with "_This, Elle, is closure."_ All of Elle's confusion, however, immediately morphed into horror when she read the name of their destination on her boarding pass.

They arrived at LAX late last night, deciding to stay in a hotel downtown. Brooke woke her up early this morning with a tray of food, but Elle had been too anxious to eat; her stomach twisting itself in nervous knots. When Brooke was in the shower, Elle had even gone out to the balcony and smoked a cigarette- something she hadn't done in nearly two months. The cigarette had temporarily calmed her down somewhat, but as they left the hotel and began to drive, Elle's anxiety peaked once again. Brooke stopped at a U-haul store and purchased a generous amount of cardboard boxes. And now, now they were here, standing in front of the house that Elle had hoped to return to. Elle didn't even bother to try to disguise the look of distress on her face.

This was Brooke's twisted version of closure, a healing process that Elle really was not appreciating. She wasn't ever supposed to see this place again.

There was a little Methodist church down the street, a few blocks from the house. Elle used to pass it on her way to school. When Peyton died, the little church down the street had been so kind and helpful to Elle and Larry; from taking care of the funeral arrangements to bringing them meals to even helping cleaning out Peyton's bedroom. Larry, Elle and Peyton had never once attended a service there, but the people of the little church had immediately gone to their aid; an act of kindness that Elle, at the time, didn't understand through her anger and grief.

Then, two months ago, Elle had again experienced the generosity of the little church down the street when Larry passed. Stubborn and hardhearted, Elle had taken care of Larry's funeral arrangements on her own, but, at eighteen years old, had no idea what to do with the house. All she had known was that she wanted to get out of LA and never go back.

The little Methodist church had offered to help her find realtors or the means of selling the house herself, but in the end, Elle just left her mother's house to the church. Assuring them that she had family in North Carolina, a bold lie at the time, Elle had taken off right after Larry's ceremony.

The little church had told Elle she had all summer to move her things out of the house before the Salvation Army came and took the rest in September. Upon leaving LA two months ago, Elle had just planned on letting them take everything away. They could have the house and everything inside it. She didn't plan on ever coming back here.

Elle finally tore her gaze from the house and looked at Brooke, "Brooke...I really don't want to-,"

"You lived in this house for eighteen years. There's got to be some things that you want to take with you, Elle. Come on," Brooke, with several folded boxes tucked under one arm, took Elle's hand, leading the reluctant blonde up the walk and onto the porch.

Elle gave a great sigh as she fished her old house key out of her purse, feeling Brooke's comforting touch on her back. Her hands trembled slightly as she twisted the key in the lock, hearing it open with a satisfying click. Her sweaty palm twisted the handle, but the front door stuck, as it always had in the intense LA summer. Elle rammed it open with the force of her shoulder.

Elle breathed in the familiar smell of her childhood as they crossed the threshold, her heart pounding so loudly that she was positive Brooke could hear it too. A wave of memories hit her as she inhaled, running through her mind like a film montage being fast forwarded.

_Peyton screaming at Larry. Elle curiously opening a curtain just to see what the living room looked like in the sunlight. Peyton sobbing uncontrollably on the staircase. Larry asleep in front of the television as Elle tiptoed past him to Moe's truck. Elle spilling a glass of milk in the kitchen as Peyton gave a cry of indignation. Brooke and Larry carrying a wasted Peyton upstairs. Elle sitting at the kitchen table as Peyton washed dishes, watching her mother have an emotional breakdown and smashing dishes onto the kitchen floor. Larry teaching Elle how to unclog the shower drain. Peyton cold and still in her bed…_

Elle shook her head, bringing a hand to her temple. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. Being back here felt like a relapse after a summer of so much progression. The memories that had been plaguing her less and less as her stay in Tree Hill lengthened were now hitting her all at once, harder and more vivid than ever. Elle glanced around the living room, seeing the spot where Larry had been sitting right before he had his heart attack. Everything in this whole house had been completely untouched since she had left in June. She shuddered as Brooke's hand brushed against her back once more.

"You okay?" Brooke asked, rubbing circles across Elle's shoulder blades.

"Yeah…uh, it's just weird being back…," Elle said absently, as she continued to gaze around the room. "It's like…like stepping back into a dream. Or an intense case of deja-vu."

"Where do you want to start?" Brooke asked, gesturing to the boxes under her arm. Elle's brow furrowed. So they were really going to do this. They were really going to go through all of these things…all of these memories.

"Uh…I don't know…," Elle glanced around again, suddenly feeling oddly lost in such a familiar place. "Uh…upstairs, I guess."

The feeling of nostalgic confusion continued to bubble in her stomach as she followed Brooke up the staircase, the seventh and ninth steps creaking as they always had. Upon reaching the landing, Elle turned to Brooke, who was now looking somewhat bewildered by being back in this place as well. They stopped in front of a doorway, Brooke's face flashing with pain and sadness.

"The walls are green." She murmured, and Elle couldn't be sure whether Brooke was speaking to her or just thinking out loud.

"Yeah…Grandpa painted them after she died." Elle said quietly. "He moved into this room after they moved her stuff out."

"Well…I guess that makes sense…," Brooke mused, still sounding as though she was talking to herself. "It is the master bedroom…,"

Brooke wordlessly handed Elle a box, her hazel eyes slightly clouded over. Elle took it, realizing how strange it must be for Brooke to see that room looking so different, to see the dynamic red walls now coated with a mellow, earthy green. She forgot that Brooke hadn't been to this house in nearly nine years. Brooke continued to stand in the doorway as Elle walked to the end of the hall, entering her own bedroom.

Elle had always hated her room. The bare, white walls sported many tiny holes that had once held things on the wall. An empty oak desk sat next to a mismatched white dresser, the only real color in the room coming from the patchwork quilt on the bed in the corner. After Peyton's death, Elle purposefully kept her walls bare and never held on to anything nostalgic. It had been her way of trying to forget.

Elle looked around. There wasn't really anything to take. Everything important to her had been stuffed into that beat up duffel bag when she left this place. With a sigh, Elle settled on taking the rest of her clothes from her dresser before putting them into the box.

She found Brooke inside Larry's room, already filling her second box. Brooke looked up as Elle placed her half filled box of clothing down. "That's all you're taking from your room?"

"Yes." Elle nodded. "There's nothing there for me anymore."

Brooke looked at her somewhat skeptically, but said nothing as she continued to take things from the Larry's desk and place them into the box at her feet. Elle recognized the books that Brooke was putting into the box as the few photo albums that they had possessed. Her heart lurched as she tried to protest.

"Brooke, no, we don't need to take any of this stuff." Elle almost pleaded, "I don't want any of these memories."

Brooke frowned in concern, a strange look of pity in her eyes. With her jaw set, she placed another photo album into the box. "Maybe someday you will."

_Then _

_Elle scowled as she watched Larry carry the last box into the basement. _

_She had refused to take any part in cleaning out her mother's bedroom. But she would occasionally walk by the room and see Larry carefully placing Peyton's belongings into boxes, packing her things away as though she was still alive to care about how neatly her blouses were folded. And then, when the box was full, Larry would tape it up and take it down to the basement. It had been almost a month since Peyton's death, and Elle thought that Larry was being ridiculous. And now, now he had finished packing up the last box…the last stupid, stupid box. Anger prickled down her spine. _

_This kind of anger was a new emotion to Elle. It was new and powerful and confusing, a feeling that often overtook every other emotion she possessed. She had been sad. She had grieved. But all that sadness eventually morphed into this sick combination of resentment, disgust and indignation. Now she was too angry at her mother for abandoning them that she couldn't find it in her heart to feel sad about it anymore. _

_She was angry at her mother. And as she heard Larry shuffling around the basement, she felt angry at him too. Peyton had died. Why did he insist on holding on to all of her things? Why did he want to keep remembering her after what she did? _

"_Great. Now all that stuff can rot in the basement instead of upstairs." Elle rolled her eyes as Larry climbed back up the staircase. _

"_Don't start again, Elle." Larry closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. He sounded exhausted, drained, and just…old; almost as if he was succumbing to every painful thought that wore him down. _

_But Elle pushed. "I don't know why you're saving those things. It's not like anybody cares about them anymore." _

"_I do." Larry sighed, as though this conversation was causing him physical pain. He turned away, making to go into the living room._

"_Well you shouldn't." Elle scoffed. "It's not like she cared about us." _

_"GOD DAMNIT, Elle! Will you give it a rest?" Larry shouted, rounding on her as he reached his incredibly rare breaking point. Elle's eyes widened in shock at his sudden outburst, his anger rapping her on the knuckles and putting her back in her place. He had never yelled at her before. _

_There was a beat before Larry took a deep breath, the frustration in his eyes vanishing; replaced by the tired, glassy expression he wore before. His whole body seemed to wilt as he sighed, his voice dropping back down to just above a whisper. "Just...please, give it a rest."_

_Elle stood rooted to the floor as Larry turned again, seating himself on the couch in the living room. He turned the TV on, blasting it much louder than necessary. Elle stood there, in the kitchen, her pulse slowly increasing as a new wave of anger and frustration began to build in her chest. _

_She was halfway upstairs before she even realized that she had moved. Many empty boxes crowded the upstairs hallway, leftovers that Larry hadn't used when packing Peyton's things away. Elle stopped in front of her mother's doorway, looking into the room that had drastically changed in the last four weeks. _

_The red walls had been painted a light green, and the dark furniture had all been replaced by a honey colored oak bedroom set. Larry was moving into this room, the master bedroom, and for some reason, that really pissed Elle off. _

_So many things had changed in the last month. Elle was used to things being unstable and rocky, but there was a consistency about the chaos. It was familiar. But now, everything was so unbearably different. It was so different that Elle often found herself longing for the familiar instability of her life before Peyton killed herself. _

_So many things had changed, but it was looking into her mother's room and seeing Larry's furniture that sent her into a blind rage, grabbing several empty boxes before she burst into her own bedroom, looking around wildly. _

_Elle was thirteen. But her bedroom hadn't been made over since she was a little girl. Elle had the same patchwork quilt on her bed, the same framed pictures of her family on the walls, the same toys and games that she'd long since outgrown still in her closet. So many things had changed, but her bedroom was still the same._

_Overcome with the desire to physically break something, Elle reached for a desk lamp her mother had given her on her seventh birthday. Larry had the television blaring so loud that Elle didn't hesitate as she chucked the lamp against the far wall, watching it smash to pieces. _

_Then she began to fill the boxes. If Grandpa Larry could make Peyton's room over, then Elle would make hers over too. Elle was blindly, angry dumping her belongings into the boxes, not caring what broke or made noise. She ripped the pictures from her wall, emptied the old toys from her closet, and cleared anything that held sentimental value off of her dresser. Elle did not stop until the boxes were full and her room was all but empty. _

_It took a few trips to clear the boxes out of her room, Larry not looking up from the TV as she climbed up and down the stairs multiple times. But these boxes didn't go into the basement. Elle took them out to the curb. _

_So many things had changed. Everything was so different that it was suddenly too painful to remain the same._

Now

It took several hours for Brooke and Elle to go through the rest of the upstairs, Brooke filling more boxes with pictures and keepsakes that Elle wanted nothing to do with. The downstairs level did not take nearly as long, although Elle wished that she had thought of cleaning out the refrigerator before leaving LA two months ago. All of the furniture and kitchen appliances were to be left for the Salvation Army, but Brooke continued to collect things like picture frames and dental records.

When, at long last, it seemed as though they had gone through everything, Elle's chest tightened in horror as Brooke made to go down into the basement.

"What is it?" Brooke asked, as Elle shifted nervously on her feet.

"The basement…uh, that's where Grandpa kept all of my mom's stuff." Elle said slowly, her heart in her throat.

"You guys…never got rid of them?" Brooke's expression flashed from concerned to shocked to sad in the blink of an eye.

"He couldn't ever throw them away." Elle bit her lip. "It's all still in boxes down there…,"

Brooke gave Elle a sad smile, "We have to do it, Elle."

Elle clenched her jaw in anxiety, but did nothing to protest as Brooke took her by the hand and led her down the rickety basement steps. It was, if possible, even dustier than it had been two months ago, the air feeling heavy and musty as it filled Elle's lungs. She couldn't help but think about the last time she had entered the basement…just to fetch a damn lightbulb…but instead, setting off a chain of events that completely and utterly altered everything in her life. The last time Elle had been down here, she had been a lost, motherless, fatherless, friendless angry, resentful person. She wasn't the same person anymore. Things had changed, and she had too. Elle remembered always feeling empty. She didn't feel empty anymore. But being back in this basement was like having that emptiness dancing in front of her face, daring Elle to succumb to the feeling again.

Brooke coughed in the dust. "Alright…you ready to do this?"

_No. _"Yes." Elle whispered. Brooke shot her a reassuring smile before brushing a think layer of dust off of a box near her feet. Brooke's white knuckles clutched a knife to cut through the packing tape, her arms shaking slightly as she began to saw through the box. Elle saw Brooke tearing up as she uncovered the contents, which happened to be clothing. Brooke ran her hands along the topmost blouse before bringing it to her face. Something in Elle's stomach lurched as she watched Brooke breath in the scent of the garment before placing it back into the box.

"It doesn't smell like her anymore." Brooke said softly, wiping a tear from her eye, "These have been in boxes for too long."

Elle didn't answer as they began to open more and more boxes. Her heart ached painfully as they went through everything that was left of Peyton, everything that had been lying dormant in the basement for so long. Elle tried not to listen to Brooke sniffling from a few feet away, knowing that she was probably crying silently as she uncovered another box of Peyton's clothing. Elle stuck to the boxes closest to the stairs, many of them holding an incredible amount of vinyl records.

"What do we do with all these?" Elle asked, as she opened the eighth box of record albums. Brooke looked up and wiped her eyes before joining Elle by the stairs.

"Oh, these meant _so _much to your mom." Brooke gave a small smile. "A lot of these were Ellie's. You should keep them, Elle. There's so much love and passion and history that come with these records. You should keep them."

Something in Elle's heart was beginning to constrict as she ran her nimble fingers along the thin spines of the many albums in this box. She knew all about these records, and she knew how much they had meant to Peyton. There had been a time, a time she vaguely remembered, when the house used to be full of light and music. Before Peyton had gotten sick, there would always be a record in the record player, blasting music throughout the whole house. Sometimes, Peyton had even danced to it.

Overcome with a wave of sadness that she didn't quite understand, Elle exhaled slowly. She didn't really know what had prompted this feeling, but Elle realized that she didn't want to lose that memory of her mother. Elle realized that she didn't want to part with something that had once made Peyton so happy.

She looked up at Brooke, speaking very softly. "Okay."

Brooke gave her a watery grin before kissing her on the forehead. Elle absently smiled back, lost in the depths of her inner mind. This sudden desire to want to hold on to something of Peyton's was somewhat troubling; Elle couldn't understand why she was feeling so sentimental now, after years of resentment and anger. Why was she feeling so sad about this? Elle almost wished for the anger to return as she continued to go through Peyton's belongings, for this feeling of sadness was not only painful, but unfamiliar and unnerving. It had been so much easier to just be angry.

As more and more boxes were opened, the dust in the air was becoming unbearable. They had been down for quite some time, and as Elle opened the last and final box, her heart dropped down to her stomach. She had found Peyton's sketchbooks.

Brooke was at her side in an instant, emitting a small, mournful sigh as she looked down into the box. There were twenty, maybe thirty, books in total, varying in size, shape and color. Elle reached down and picked one up, flipping through the drawings and sketches. Brooke sighed again from over Elle's shoulder, Elle hearing the quiet quiver in her breath.

As she placed the sketchbook back into the box, Elle again wondered why she was not feeling her usual resentment. _'What a waste of a life,' _she would have thought. She would have just thrown the sketchbook back down and gotten rid of that whole box without a second thought. She would have tried to forget about it as soon as possible; tried to run away from that aching resentment in her heart caused by the woman who had taken her own life.

But at that moment, her heart was not aching because of the woman who selfishly committed suicide. Her heart was aching _for_ the woman who had never been able to get past the pain and tragedy in her life, for the woman who had once been so strong and fiery and full of life. As she closed the box back up, Elle's heart went out to the woman who wasn't able to ever let go of her sadness.

_Then_

"_Hi, mom." Elle looked up from her spot at the table as Peyton entered the kitchen, a large mug in one hand. _

"_Hey there, girly girl!" Peyton chirped, as she staggered over to her nine year old daughter and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Elle blinked, surprised, confused by her mother's odd behavior. It wasn't like Peyton to act so cheerful. "Whatcha doing?" _

"_Drawing." Elle answered, eyeing her mother nervously. Peyton's normally dull, glazed eyes were a very vivid green, the wild look in them almost animalistic. It would take Elle a little while to realize that at this particular moment, Peyton happened to be very drunk. _

"_That's so great! I love drawing!" Peyton's words were slightly slurred as she sat down next to Elle, taking a large swig from her mug. "You know what, babe? I'm gonna draw something for you too." _

_Elle grinned from ear to ear as Peyton took a piece of paper and reached for Elle's box of crayons. Suddenly, it didn't matter that Peyton was acting strangely. It didn't matter that this wasn't her typical behavior. The only thing that mattered was that Peyton was drawing with her. Elle couldn't remember the last time that Peyton had ever wanted to do anything like this with her. Ever since Brooke had left last month, Peyton's depressive periods had been getting longer and more frequent. _

_They colored together in silence for a few minutes before Peyton jumped up, slapping the crayon drawing down on the table in front of Elle. "There! All finished!" _

_Elle took the drawing in her hands, admiring it fondly. It was very cartoon-like; two blonde, smiley, happy curly haired figures stood hand-in-hand on top of a large broken heart. Peyton drained the contents of the mug. _

"_It's me and you. See?" Peyton pointed at the two cartoon people. "Us against the world, babe. We don't need anyone else." _

_Happiness swelled in little Elle's chest, just as Peyton suddenly jumped up and began vomiting into the trashcan. Alarmed, Elle raced over to her mother's side, grabbing Peyton's hair in her small hands. _

"_Mom! Are you okay?" Elle asked as Peyton straightened back up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She swayed on the spot for a moment before lowering herself onto the floor. "Mom! What's the matter?" _

"_I think it's time for me to go to sleep now…," Peyton slurred, breathing heavily. _

_Elle took the mug from the table and smelled it, the strong, unmistakable scent of vodka filling her nostrils. She sighed as she looked up at the clock; Grandpa Larry had just left to buy groceries. He wouldn't be home for at least a half-hour. _

_With much difficulty, Elle managed to help Peyton up the stairs and into her bed. Peyton was already snoring loudly as Elle pulled the blankets over her mother, shaking her head and tiptoeing toward the door. Elle was in the doorway when Peyton stirred, opening her eyes. "Elle?" _

_Elle turned. "Yeah, mom?"_

"_This…was…the best day…I've had…in a long… time…," Peyton spoke very slowly, her words still coming out as drunken mumbles. She smiled before closing her eyes again. _

"_Me too, mom."_

Now

Elle surprised herself when she decided to keep the box of Peyton's sketchbooks. Thankful that Brooke didn't say something obnoxious like "_See?" _or "_Aw, I knew you would", _Elle carried the box out to the Ford Expedition that Brooke had rented at the airport. Elle actually ended up keeping quite a few things from the basement, including Peyton's record collection. The light had changed quite considerably as Brooke and Elle emerged from the basement for the last time; the sun preparing to make its descent as the day drew closer and closer to dusk.

Just as Elle was ready to leave, Brooke disappeared into the garage. When Brooke still hadn't emerged for several minutes, Elle entered the garage as well, to find Brooke sitting in Peyton's old Comet; the tarp that had covered it for years now in a heap on the ground.

"I didn't know you guys still had Peyton's car." Brooke said, running her hands along the dashboard. "Peyton loved this car."

"Yeah…it, uh, broke down when I was like twelve. I guess we never got it fixed." Elle said, remembering the day Peyton's Comet broke down. It had sent her mother into a horrible depression- she didn't leave her room for nearly three days.

Brooke's fingers graced the steering wheel before she looked back up at Elle. "Why don't we take it?"

"What? All the way back to Tree Hill?" Elle blinked, "It doesn't drive. I don't think it even has air in the tires."

"We can put it on a trailer and hook it up to the back of the rental." Brooke said. "And I don't know if you know this, but Lucas has a knack for working on cars." She paused, her voice dropping down to a whisper. "Especially this car. He'd love this."

And that was that. Brooke rented a flat bed trailer from the U-haul store up the road, and after everything was loaded up into the rental, Elle turned to face her childhood home for the last time.

"You ready?" Brooke asked, as Elle nodded.

"Yeah." Elle gave a satisfied sigh. "Let's go home."

As they piled into the car and drove away, Comet in tow, Elle watched the retreating form of the from out of the side mirror, watching it grow smaller and smaller until she couldn't see it at all. It was gone. Elle smiled to herself, resting her head against the glass window. They were finally going back to Tree Hill. Elle would never have to think about this house again.

"Brooke…the interstate's the other way." Elle snapped out of her daze as Brooke made a left turn onto a deserted street.

"I know. We're making one more stop first." Brooke replied. Elle sighed, shaking her head. _Of course_.

"You've got to stop doing that to me." Elle joked, "I'm not a spontaneous adventurer."

"Yeah, sure, says the girl who impulsively hitchhiked from LA to my front door in June." Brooke laughed.

"Hey, I only hitchhiked from Texas," Elle grinned.

The lighthearted mood immediately died as Elle realized where they were headed. She had last been to the cemetery for Larry's burial, but before that, Elle had only visited her mother's grave once since Peyton had died.

Elle suddenly realized what Brooke meant by closure. Brooke wanted Elle to say goodbye.

After they parked, Elle led Brooke up a steep, grassy hill, her heart fluttering with a feeling that she couldn't quite decipher. She felt nervous, anxious and even a little regretful, sorry that she hadn't taken the time to come here more often when she still lived here. But more than anything, Elle felt sad.

Brooke gently took Elle's hand as they approached their destination. Jonathan Cassidy and Peyton Sawyer Cassidy's headstones sat side by side, while Larry's rested about ten feet to the left. Brooke's eyes were full as they stopped in front of Peyton's grave. Elle studied Brooke for a moment, feeling oddly imposing. Brooke's fingers grazed Peyton's headstone.

"I'll give you a minute." Elle said quietly, "I'm…I'm going to go see my Grandpa."

Brooke nodded as Elle stepped away quickly, but not quick enough to hear Brooke's tearful whisper, "Hey, P. Sawyer. Sorry I've been away for so long…,"

Larry's grave was just out of earshot. Elle gazed down at Larry's headstone, not knowing what to do. She repeated Brooke's actions, feeling a little foolish about speaking to a grave. "Hi, Grandpa. Uh...sorry I've been away for so long."

The awkward feeling melted as she knelt down, whispered words pouring out of her mouth. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm sorry. You always tried so hard to keep everyone happy. You tried so hard for mom. I'm sorry that nobody tried to be happy for _you_. Especially when you needed it the most."

She paused, a feeling a deep sympathy for her grandfather that she had never experienced before. "You broke after she died. It hurt you so much because you felt like you could have done something. But it wasn't your fault. You didn't fail her, Grandpa. You didn't fail me either. I love you and I'm so sorry I yelled at you."

She stood up, feeling as though a weight had just been lifted off her chest. Glancing to her right, Elle could still see Brooke's mouth moving as she continued to talk to Peyton's headstone. Brooke hadn't ever been to Peyton's grave. Brooke never got to have that sense of closure with Peyton.

Elle thought about that for a moment. Brooke didn't just come back to LA to give Elle closure. She came back to give herself closure as well. Elle suddenly felt incredibly selfish as she watched Brooke kneeling in front of Peyton's headstone. She had spent a good portion of the day worrying about her own feelings, when Brooke must've been feeling the exact same anxiety. Peyton was Brooke's best friend; they shared a history that extended long before anything else in Peyton's tragic story. And when Peyton died, Brooke never got to say goodbye. Brooke had to spend years watching her best friend unravel, and when it all ended, Brooke hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Elle brushed her hand along Larry's headstone once more before returning to Brooke's side, grabbing her hand again. Elle looked down at her mother's grave, not really knowing what to say; or if she should even say anything at all.

Brooke did not urge her to speak or rush her along as they stood there for a few moments, wordlessly gazing down at the two headstones at their feet. Elle looked from Jonathan's to Peyton's, settling on sending a silent prayer that, wherever they were now, they were together and happy. Elle hoped that Peyton had finally found her happiness.

Brooke met her eyes, signaling that it was time to go. It was time to say goodbye. Brooke brought her fingers to her lips and kissed them before placing them on top of Peyton's headstone. "_I love you, Peyton," _She mouthed, as Elle's chest tightened with the realization that she probably wouldn't ever come back here. This was probably it. Elle looked at her stepfather's grave, sending another silent message, wishing that she had more memories of him, hoping that wherever he was now, he still knew that Elle loved him.

She took a step back, still clutching Brooke's hand. Taking that as a signal to leave, Brooke gave her hand a squeeze as they made to turn a go back down the hill. They had only gone about fifteen feet when Elle suddenly broke from Brooke's grasp, sprinting back up to where they had just stood. She placed both of her hands on the cool granite of Peyton's headstone, breathing heavily. Closing her eyes, Elle squeezed the rock as hard as she could, hoping that it could be felt by someone in the afterlife. She released her grip and took a step back, a hand flying to her aching chest.

"Bye, Mom." She whispered, before turning and making her way back to Brooke, who was watching her with a combination of sadness and satisfaction on her face. They continued down the hill with their arms wrapped around each other, both making up for the emptiness in the other's heart.

Once in the car again, Elle let out a long breath, overcome with a strange feeling of accomplishment. Brooke dabbed at her eyes before starting the engine and as they drove away, Elle looked into the back, glancing around at all of the things they had taken from her house. This was it. Now she could go back to Tree Hill and start her life. Now she could start moving on.

"Brooke?" Elle spoke up after a few minutes.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" Brooke answered; her voice still a little tearful.

"I'm glad you brought me back here." Elle said quietly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, honey." Brooke said, "I'm glad we came too. I'm glad you let us do what we did today."

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness." Elle mused, "You know, how you forgave me, how Nathan got past everything…and how I've been spending years blaming my mom for everything."

Elle paused for a moment, looking at the long stretch of road ahead. "And now…now I realize how wrong that is. I can't keep blaming my mother for all of my problems. If I do that, then I'll never be able to forgive her for what she _did _do. And that's not fair to her." Elle paused again, "That's not fair to me either."

Brooke exhaled, glancing at Elle with proud, watery eyes. "She'd be so proud to see the strong, mature person you've grown to be. Your mom would be _so _proud of you right now."

The old Elle would have scoffed at this comment. But instead, she smiled. "I hope so."

This wasn't the first time she had left Los Angeles without looking back. But as they continued to drive further away, Elle couldn't help but make mental contrasts between this journey and her last. Last time, she had been homeless, afraid, wanting to do nothing but leave everything and never go back.

But this time, as she sat next to Brooke, Elle realized that she left a tiny piece of her heart back in that cemetery. Three pieces, actually; one with her stepfather, one with her grandpa…and one with her mother.

* * *

**:) **

** I know a lot of you are wanting more Matt/Julian/Baker family moments, which will be happening in the next chapter. :) But for now, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! How do you feel? :) Please take care, everyone! **

**Love, Brennan  
**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hello avid readers! It's been quite the busy month for me- I've been out of town for a family reunion and a few other silly things...but I haven't forgotten about all of you :) I know I say it pretty much every time I post, but I am just so thankful for my loyal reviewers. Such kind-hearted folks! **

* * *

It's often easy to dwell on miserable things. Negativity is like a contagious disease, infecting all those it comes in contact with, pulling people down into its deep, depressing darkness.

Everybody is plagued by pain at some point in their lives. But it's how people overcome that pain that really sets them all apart. It's more difficult for some- the ones wallowing in their misery, walking blindly through the blackness, wondering if they'll ever make it out into the light. It is incredibly easy to see the world as a dark and bleak place when focused only on the bad things in life.

It takes optimism to overcome pain. If one is not hopeful, then they may never get passed it. And optimism, as foreign as it might sound, just takes a little perspective. As Helen Keller puts it, "Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it."

Brooke, Elle observed, was dead-set on healing. Their cross country drive back to Tree Hill took a little over four days; Brooke in no rush to get home, taking her time on the road and focusing more on working everything out with Elle, hashing out feelings and thoughts about everything that had happened with Avery.

Many of these conversations were painful for Elle, guilt eating at her stomach as Brooke addressed how shocked and betrayed she felt when Elle had decided to smoke that blunt. Brooke also said that there needed to be some ground rules laid out, just so they would all be one-hundred percent clear that something like that would never happen again.

"You can ground me if you want." Elle said, as they sat at a booth in a diner right off the highway somewhere in New Mexico on their second day of driving. Brooke shook her head.

"Honey, you're eighteen years old. I'm not going to ground you. And even if I did, I don't think it would do any good." Brooke reached across the table and grabbed Elle's hands. "I just need your word that you won't do things like that anymore. I need to hear you say that you understand your mistake and that it won't ever happen again."

"I _promise _that I won't ever, ever do that again. I will never make the mistake of being so incredibly selfish again." Elle looked into Brooke's face, her voice strained. "God, Brooke, I am so, _so _sorry. Please, please believe that. I am so sorry."

"I do believe you, sweetheart. I know you're sorry. And it's okay." Brooke smiled warmly, her thumbs brushing Elle's palms. "We're all going to get through this together."

"I'm going to make everything better." Elle said, "I promise that I'm going to fix what I've broken."

"I'm so thankful that you feel that way, Elle. But before you can heal others, you have to fix yourself. You have to forgive yourself and let go of the guilt that's eating you alive, otherwise this is never going to go away."

"But this isn't about me." Elle frowned.

"Yes it is. How do you expect to get passed any of this if you can't let if go? You won't." Brooke said, "It's a process. It takes time to heal and you just have to let yourself take that time."

"But…but I can't forgive myself until it's all better." Elle hung her head. "If things are still bad, I can't forgive myself because I know that it's my fault."

"It doesn't work that way, Elle." Brooke paused and took a deep breath. "When I helped Peyton keep Lucas from you, I was _so _guilty. And I lived with that guilt for eighteen years. When you came to me this summer, especially after you found out the truth, I didn't ever think that I could forgive myself. I saw how hurt both you and Lucas were, and I knew that it was my fault. I blamed myself for your suffering. But eventually, I began to forgive myself and accept my mistake. I'll always feel bad about what I did, but I know that I can't keep wallowing in my self-pity. That's not the way you get past things."

"So what do I do?" Elle asked quietly.

"First, you get all your apologies out." Brooke said, "You can sincerely apologize to those you feel like you've hurt. But once it's been said, don't bring it up again. If you constantly apologize all the time, it just will start to sound less and less meaningful. It'll become routine and it'll be harder to move on if you keep reminding yourself. It isn't necessary to keep apologizing if you've already said it sincerely."

Elle nodded as Brooke continued. "Then you just need to start moving forward, in any way you can. Change your guilty mindset. If you're set on improving something, don't look at it as what you can do to fix the past. See it as what can be done to make a better future."

Upon their arrival back in Tree Hill, Elle and Brooke first stopped at Lucas's to drop off the Comet before heading back to the beach house. Elle took satisfaction at Lucas's reaction as they pulled up in front of his house, uncovering Peyton's beloved car from underneath its tarp. Lucas looked as though he wasn't sure to laugh or cry, settling on a look of joyful, teary-eyed surprise. He pulled both Brooke and Elle into an enormous embrace, whispering a very sincere thank-you.

Elle's heart swelled, if possible, even more as they arrived back at Brooke's. She was welcomed with ecstatic cries from Joey and Avery, who sported a hot pink cast, as Julian helped them unload the truck, greeting Elle with a warm hug.

As she carried many boxes up to her room, Elle breathed in the familiar smell of the beach house. A warm feeling of belonging washed over her as she resisted the urge to flop down onto her bed and bask in the scent of the Brooke's home. There was something she had to do first.

Her curls billowed behind her as she slowly walked down the dock. Elle knew that he'd be there, at their spot on the beach. She dug her toes into the sand as she approached him, Matt looking up with a small, sideways smile.

"Hi," She said quietly, not meaning to sound so timid.

"Hey you," Matt stood up from his beach chair, meeting her level. "Heard you were coming back today."

"Yeah." Elle nodded, "I'm finally home."

"Back where you belong," Matt stepped over to her, his hand gracing her cheek before pulling her into a tight embrace. Relief swept over Elle as she hugged him back, thankful that things were not as tense as the afternoon he had showed up at Lucas's. They stood there for a few moments, Elle listening to Matt's heartbeat as she rested her head against his chest.

She had done a lot of reflecting on the drive back from Los Angeles; reflecting on herself, reflecting on her past, reflecting on her relationships with the people she had grown so close to this summer, and reflecting on the ones she would never forget. But Elle found herself most frequently thinking about her relationship with Matt.

It was an interesting relationship they shared; one that was more than friendship but not exactly a legitimate romantic relationship. Matt wasn't her boyfriend. But Matt wasn't her friend either. They were caught somewhere in between the two, a confusing place with shaky boundaries and very fine lines.

So, what were they, exactly? Elle couldn't answer that question, no matter how long she dwelled on the matter. They had different values and experience levels, but Matt had such a deep understanding of her and of the way she acted; he recognized her pain and had the ability to accept it not always understanding what was going on inside her head. He was so protective, so caring, making her feel safe and comfortable and able to talk about her problems.

They had shared many sweet words and a few tender kisses, but that was before Avery's accident strained their passion, Matt's resentment toward Elle stifling their blissful fling. But he had gone to her, despite what she had done. He still cared. He had forgiven her enough to welcome her home. Maybe things could just go back to the way they were between them- as simply as the way he was hugging her now.

But a newly formed, more mature part of Elle knew that it wasn't going to be that easy. They still had a lot to work out, even if the initial anger and resentment had gone away. There would be things they would need to talk about that things they would still need to overcome.

Elle realized what she needed to do if they were ever going to get back to the way they were. Elle now knew what Brooke meant when she had talked about making a better future.

"You know, Matt…I've really made a lot of progress with myself this week." Elle broke the silence, inhaling deeply. "I'm finally starting to heal and feel better. I'm finally climbing out of that dark hole I've been stuck in for the last five years. I've been reflecting a lot on myself too. About how I've acted and what I've done…and what I need to do to start moving on." Elle stepped out of Matt's arms and faced him. "I'm making so much progress…and I'm so determined to make everything better again. Between me and Brooke and especially between me and you."

"Okay," Matt nodded, knowing she had more to say. He looked at her intently as he took in her words, reading every emotion on her face and in her voice.

"I know we never really discussed where we stood in our relationship. And frankly, I still don't know what to call what we have together." Elle gave a small laugh before grabbing his hands. "But I do know that you're the best friend I've ever had. You're my favorite companion, my greatest ally. I've never, ever met anyone else who treats and respects me the way you do. I care about you so much and I don't know what I'd do without you."

Matt squeezed her hands back, laughing slightly at her praise. "Elle, where's all this coming from?"

"I'm coming out of a really bad place. But my heads still a mess. I'm still so guilty about what I did. I'm still trying to overcome all these bad feelings about my past. And I'm also figuring out a way to fix what I messed up."

Matt smiled warmly at her, trying to connect her two points. "Okay, but what's that got to do with-,"

"Just…let me finish." Elle said, "The first thing I'm trying to fix is my relationship with you. We were real, and genuine, but after everything that's happened with Avery…and all that other tension that's built up between us… I think the only fighting chance we have at making things better again is if we kind of…start over."

Matt blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…," Elle sighed. "Where I am now, emotionally, is pretty confusing. I don't know if I'm in any place right now to be in any kind of romantic relationship."

"But we can get passed all of that, we can still make it work."

"But that's not what I need right now. I need to focus on myself and all the things I've spent years running away from. I need to focus on improving those things before committing to a serious relationship. I'm not ready for that yet." Elle chewed on her lip before pressing on, "God, Matt, I care about you _so _much. And I can care about you just as much as I do now if we stop the romance. You were my friend first. And I know that sounds like a dirty word, but really, I spent my whole life longing for a friend like you. And that to me is so much more important than any romantic relationship in the world!"

Elle stopped abruptly, her voice had been growing higher and higher as she rambled, and her lungs had run out of air. After a deep breath, she opened her mouth again, her words more calm and level.

"I'm not saying that we can't ever get back to that; I'm just saying that I think we need time to do it." Elle's brow furrowed slightly. "I think that if we jumped right back into things…it would just build on that pre-existing tension that we haven't resolved. I care enough about you to take the time I need before diving back into a romantic relationship. I want to do things right. Please, please understand."

Matt was silent for a few moments as Elle held her breath, praying that she didn't pile onto their problems by dumping him. He looked deep in thought, and Elle couldn't tell if he was angry or not. "Matt…? Say something…please…,"

Matt met her eyes before placing his hands on her shoulders. "Elle Sawyer, I will be here for you in any way you need me to be."

Elle's eyes widened in relief and surprise, "Really? You're really okay with this?"

Matt gave a laugh before smiling reassuringly. "I know we have a lot to work out. And I'm just as willing as you are to get back to the way we were."

"Oh, god, thank you, Matt," Elle threw her arms over his shoulders, almost knocking the both of them into the sand. Matt laughed again as he caught her, staggering back several steps. Elle's words were muffled as she spoke into his chest. "Thank you for being such a good person. Thank you for understanding me…even when I don't understand myself."

"You're welcome." Matt grinned down at her, "I actually think it's good that we're doing this. I'm going to Duke in less than a month. Now we don't have to worry about a summer fling ending. We can get back to what we had, and we won't have any expectations to live up to. We can just be Matt and Elle, the same people we've always been."

"But I'm not the same person I've always been." Elle looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. "I'm not broken anymore."

"Maybe you're not broken. But you're still you." Matt said, "You're attitude and outlook have changed, but you're still Elle, the girl I care about with all my heart." Matt looked out at the ocean. "That's the beautiful thing about life. How, even though we have one being and one life to live, our hearts and souls are ever-changing. How all it takes is a little perspective for a broken person to become whole again."

* * *

Lindsey Scott knew that she often idealized situations more than she should.

Elle had moved out a few days ago, and Lindsey hated herself for feeling relieved. She knew how important Elle was to Lucas, and she knew that he wished that Elle could've stayed. Lindsey loved her husband, and respected his wishes to be in this girl's life, the girl who did drugs and took Grace to a rocker party. But if that was the thing that brought Lucas out of his depression, the thing that prevented him from shutting himself into his office all day, then so be it. So she had eventually accepted it, accepted Elle into the house, trying her best not to see Peyton Sawyer in the young girl's face.

And then Elle left, and Lucas relapsed, beginning to spend his days shut in his office again. It killed her to see him acting this way again, but a very selfish, immature part of Lindsey was happy that Elle was out of that house, for now she could finally try to reestablish a sense of normalcy. Now things could finally start to get better, after weeks and weeks of unbearable tension. She could finally start improving her strained relationship with her husband.

But, as wonderful is it was to dream, Lindsey Scott often forgot that idealization was not reality.

Perhaps that's why she nearly passed out upon her arrival home from work—to find an infamous Mercury Comet taking up her spot in the driveway.

Sometimes Lindsey hated herself for being so sensitive about the subject of Peyton, hated herself for feeling threatened by a woman who had been dead for over five years. Sometimes, she just wished that she could accept Peyton Sawyer as a permanent part of their lives, a splinter in her foot that would never go away.

But there was a Mercury Comet in the driveway, a car just like the one Peyton had. Why did Lucas insist on doing things like that? Why couldn't Lucas just accept Peyton as a part of the past? Why, no matter now hard Lindsey tried, did she always feel like she was never enough? Why couldn't Lucas just be happy with her, instead of dwelling on _Ravens _or bringing home Comets? What did she have to do to prove herself as worthy of his love as Peyton Sawyer?

She had asked Lucas if he would have gone to Peyton. And he said yes. And now there was a Comet in the driveway.

As Lindsey entered the house, she knew that she was crazy for even thinking that she and Lucas were anywhere near better. If anything, their situation had just taken a turn for the worse.

She knew just where to find him, and sure enough, Lucas was seated at his computer in his office as she burst through the door, a look of shock on his face at her sudden entrance.

"Lucas, why is there a Comet parked in the driveway?" Lindsey asked, "Please tell me that you didn't go out and buy a car today!"

Lucas exhaled before standing up, and Lindsey could have sworn that he had sighed out of annoyance. "I didn't buy a car. Elle brought it back from LA. It was…Peyton's. Elle wants me to fix it up for her."

Lindsey's stomach dropped. Never, in a million years did she think that Peyton's actual car still existed, a car that held so many sentimental memories for Lucas from a life that Lindsey was never a part of. Knowing that it was Peyton's real car did not make her feel any better. And in knowing that it was parked in _her _driveway, Lindsey could barely contain her indignation.

"And you're going to?" Lindsey frowned, "You're going to fix Peyton Sawyer's car?"

"Yes. I am."

"Well why can't you just take it to a shop of something? Why do you have to spend the money and buy the parts to do it yourself?" Words spewed out of Lindsey's mouth before she even realized that she had just been launched into another exhausting argument with Lucas.

"Because I want to! I want to fix it!" Lucas shouted.

"Yeah, you're going to fix _Peyton_'s car just because you want to fix something." Lindsey snorted. "You're fixing it because it's another one of your crazy attempts to feel close to that woman again!"

"God damn, Lindsey!" Lucas threw his hands in the air. "What the hell is wrong with you? I'm not doing it for _Peyton_! I'm doing it for Elle!"

Lindsey was about to retort when she noticed the lit computer screen behind her husband's figure. She didn't need to get any closer to see what he had been doing before she came in.

"You're writing again?" She whispered. "Peyton's car shows up and now you're writing again."

"No. I'm not-," Lucas started, but Lindsey pushed passed him before he could react, seating herself in his office chair and reading the words off the screen out loud, the words from her husband's heart, one that had not written a single word in over nineteen years.

"_It was more than just a comet because of what it brought to his life: direction, beauty, meaning. There are many who couldn't understand, and sometimes he walked among them. But even in his darkest hours, he knew in his heart that someday it would return to him, and his world would be whole again... And his belief in God and love and art would be re-awakened in his heart_."

Lindsey looked back up at Lucas, tears in her eyes, waiting for him to speak.

"Lindsey, don't." Lucas sighed. "Don't turn this into something about you."

"Damnit, Lucas!" Lindsey's voice broke, "This has everything to do with me! With us! You're shutting me out and immersing yourself in a world that doesn't exist anymore!"

"Lindsey…," Lucas began, lowering his eyes.

"Your words are so beautiful, so profound and meaningful, but knowing where that inspiration comes from… it makes me worry that this life, _our_ life, isn't enough for you!" Lindsey was crying now, tears running down her face. "You're living in a world that I'm not a part of and that scares me, Lucas, it scares me that you'd rather be with the memories of a different lifetime while I'm still here!"

She paused as a sob hitched in her throat. "I know that you're sad that Elle left. I know that you're heartbroken over Peyton's death, I know that you miss her, but damnit, Luke, I'm still here!"

Lucas dropped his chin to his chest. Lindsey took a step closer to him, placing her hands on his cheeks and forcing him to look her in the face.

"_I'm_ still here, Lucas! I love you _so _much, but I need to know that you love me back!" Lindsey said, her voice thick with tears. "What do I have to do to make you love me as much as you love her?"

Lucas closed his eyes, shutting her out even as she stood directly in front of him. "I'm sorry."

"That's great that you're sorry! I know you're not hurting me on purpose, Luke, but it still hurts all the same!" Lindsey choked, "And an apology isn't going to change that! I need you to show me! I need you to be my husband, the man I love!"

"I know." Lucas whispered, still avoiding her eyes. Lindsey's nostrils flared as she dropped her hands from his face, frustration and hurt building up in her chest. She was at a loss about what to do. She was standing there, crying her eyes out, and he couldn't even look at her in the face. Had she lost him forever?

"Well, you better figure out a way to show me that you know." Lindsey's voice trembled in her throat. "Because I really, really don't know how much more of this I can take."

She turned on her heel just as a fresh wave of tears began to fall from her eyes, racing into the hallway and shutting Lucas back alone in his office.

It's often easy to dwell on miserable things. Negativity is like a contagious disease, infecting all those it comes in contact with, pulling people down into its deep, depressing darkness. Lindsey had never been one to wallow in her misery for _too_ long. It was always easier to imagine things getting better in the future, her own way of coping with her ever-present anxiety.

Lindsey Scott knew that she often idealized situations more than she should. As wonderful is it was to dream, Lindsey Scott often forgot that idealization was not reality.

Perhaps that's why she felt such immense shock as she realized that her marriage was falling apart, much like something made of sand. The harder she clung to it, the more it just crumbled into dust.

* * *

Elle gave a satisfied sigh as she unpacked the next box of Peyton's records, placing them into the still growing, mountainous stack that was taking up most of her closet. And there were still many more to be opened- she hoped that there would be enough space for all of these.

Just as she began to pile her next box of records into the closet, a soft knocking on her door made her jump and turn around.

"Julian, hi," Elle said timidly, as Brooke's husband appeared in the doorway. Like it had been with Nathan, Elle's guilt caused her to feel strangely self-conscious as Julian entered her room.

"You getting all settled in?" he asked, stepping around the many boxes on the floor.

"Yeah, I am." Elle nodded, wondering if Julian was here to talk to her about Avery's accident. _Well, duh._ Julian was the only person whom she hadn't had a conversation with about it. Of course he was here to talk about Avery's accident.

"Brooke told me that she was going to let you paint the walls." Julian said, "You got a color picked out yet?"

It was another step in Brooke's healing process, to let Elle redecorate the guest bedroom she'd been staying in all summer. Brooke wanted Elle to make the room her own, to give her a sense that her place really was here.

Julian was acting pleasantly friendly, as though he could continue this small-talk all evening. But he _was_ a movie producer, after all…he knew the techniques of good acting. Maybe he was just trying to warm her up before getting down to business. Elle inhaled before speaking.

"Look, Julian…," She said slowly, "I'm so sorry about what happened with Avery. I was stupid and selfish and I hate myself for hurting all of you and betraying your trust. You guys have done nothing but help me and give me a second chance. And I just took that for granted and none of you deserved that." She looked at him. "I am so sorry."

Julian gave her a small smile. "I've worked with too many people who use drugs to numb their pain. And it didn't turn out well for any of them. That's not the way to deal with your problems."

"I'm not going to do that again. Ever." Elle shook her head sadly. "If there was any way that I could go back and change what I did, I would do anything to make it happen."

"Have you ever heard of a movie called _Volver_?" Julian asked her, sitting on the top of a box of records.

Elle shook her head. "No."

"It's a Spanish movie circa 2006, starred Penelope Cruz, written and directed by Pedro Almodóvar…er…anyway," Julian smiled sheepishly, "The term _Volver_ means 'to return' in Spanish. The movie's about three generations of women from the same family, and all these terrible things happen to them. The woman from the oldest generation comes back from the dead to try and fix all the things that she didn't fix during life, and there's so much anger and resentment toward her from her daughter."

Elle's stomach lurched.

"But it's basically a story about how loss and grief are finally overcome." Julian gestured as he spoke, "It's a powerful story about forgiveness and redemption; how it's important to have enough strength to let go of something painful, and how it's equally important to give those who've wronged you a chance at redemption."

Elle knew Julian well enough to take his movie reference as an acceptation of her apology. She let out a long sigh before smiling at him, "Thank you, Julian."

"You're welcome, kid." He stood up, flashing his animated grin. "It's good to have you back, Elle."

"It's good to be back." Elle replied, as Julian clapped her on the shoulder before making his way back out of the room.

He was in the doorway when he turned back to face her. "You never answered my question."

"What's that?"

"The color." He tapped the walls. "On movie sets, it's one of the most debatable things that goes into the production of a film. What kind of mood it will set for the story. How it reflects the characters' personalities. How it reflects on myself as a producer." He grinned. "In my world, wall color's a pretty big decision."

Elle looked around thoughtfully. She honestly just planned on leaving the bedroom just as it was, for it still felt like more of a home to her than her old room ever had. But as she unpacked more and more of Peyton's records, Elle knew just the color that would suit these walls best.

The old Elle would have been able to picture herself in this state of mind. But she had grown so much, had changed so much. She used to be afraid of change. But now, Elle didn't see it as change at all. She saw it as progression.

It takes optimism to overcome pain. If one is not hopeful, then they may never get passed it. And optimism, as foreign as it might sound, just takes a little perspective.

Elle folded her arms and smiled. "Red."

* * *

**Don't hate me for breaking Matt and Elle up! I want them together too- i actually sat at my computer desk pondering whether to keep them together or not. But realistically, it was the best thing for the story. And I really enjoyed writing Lindsey...it's been a while since we've heard from her. Yes, I did steal the 'comet' excerpt from OTH...not mine! :) What about the Elle/Julian scene? He doesn't get as much attention as some of the other characters, so I wanted to give him a scene with Elle. :) More Lucas/Elle next chapter! Stay tuned! :D**

**PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE let me know what you're feeling after reading this chapter! Thanks, everyone, and pleeease take care! **

**Love, Brennan**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hi guys :) As always, I was ABSOLUTELY floored by the feedback from my incredibly kind, supportive, generous reviewers :) You all really make me feel so immensely blessed. Thank you all so much ! **

**

* * *

**

Life is all about learning lessons.

From a very young age, we are educated in school, being taught how to spell and how to count. It often seems as though our lives are defined by how well we learn these lessons; by grades and college educations, theoretically deciding things such as job opportunities and social statuses. It is not uncommon for people to be extremely involved in the lessons they learn academically.

But a lot of the time, the biggest lessons learned are not ones that can be taught in books. The most memorable, influential lessons are those learned from experiencing things in life, whether it is from something good, or the result of something bad. Experience change people; makes them learn and grow in a way that cannot be taught from a book or in a classroom.

Life is all about learning lessons. Some are from books, others from simply living. But these lessons are meaningless if nothing is gained from it. The most important thing is not the lesson itself, but how that lesson is reciprocated. A lesson is only a lesson if one is able to help themselves or someone else with the knowledge that they have gained.

Elle Sawyer had spent her summer learning. She learned things about her mother, her past, her family, her family, and especially herself. She learned about things like guilt, trust, love, forgiveness and redemption. It had been a summer of gaining; as her heart and her soul slowly started to become whole again. But little did Elle Sawyer know that today would be the day that her lessons would be reciprocated.

She drew a long breath as she rounded the corner to Lucas's street, the morning sun on her shoulders. The unruly curls that normally hung in her face were pulled back into a long ponytail. Her blue eyes gleamed bright, for they were no longer shielded by her hair.

Since she had returned to Tree Hill the day before, Elle had been extremely eager to share the photographs of her childhood- the ones Brooke had insisted she bring home- with Lucas. Once, during her week-long stay at his house, Lucas told Elle that he wished he could have watched her grow up the way he watched Grace grow from a baby to a beautiful teenager. That particular conversation had made Elle feel somewhat sad, for she wished the very same thing, knowing that if she had been in his life from the start, his walls would be covered with pictures of her, the way they were now filled with pictures of Grace.

But everything seemed so much more possible, more hopeful, since she had arrived back in Tree Hill. Elle knew that Lucas could still hang pictures of her on his wall and frame some on his desk; he just needed the photographs to do so.

As she climbed up the porch steps, Elle wondered if she should have called before coming over. She tucked the photo album under one arm and rang the doorbell, brushing a few stray strands of curls out of her face.

The photo album, however, nearly slipped out of her arm as the front door swung open a few moments later, where Elle found herself standing face to face with an extremely disheveled and distraught looking Lindsey Scott.

"Hi…uh…," Elle said slowly, as Lindsey looked at her with red, swollen eyes. It was an immense shock to see a prim and proper woman like Lindsey in such a state; her normally glossy hair sat in a messy knot at the top of her head, her crisp wardrobe of business suits and silk blouses had been replaces with a baggy t-shirt and sweat pants, and she wasn't wearing any makeup, making her puffy, bloodshot eyes and splotchy cheeks even more pronounced. Elle could've sworn that there were dry tear tracks on her stepmother's face.

"Lucas isn't home right now, Elle." Lindsey's voice was watery and quiet, "He took Grace to get breakfast." She gave a small, indignant laugh as her eyes filled with tears. "Not that I was invited or anything…,"

Elle shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She hated seeing adults cry. It always reminded her of how emotional Peyton was when she was growing up. But Lindsey wasn't emotional, at least, not around Elle. She was just the opposite; hell, _cold_, even. It was slightly unnerving to see such a cold person like Lindsey acting so emotional.

"Is everything okay?" Elle gazed at her uncertainly. Lindsey gave another dry laugh, an enourmous contrast from her watery eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's great, unless you count my marriage falling apart. Unless you count how my husband can't stand me or how my daughter can't stand being around either of us anymore!" A few tears spilled out of her eyes as she closed them, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you any of this. Sorry."

Lindsey made to close the door, but Elle put her free arm out and stopped her, pushing it open once again. "Look…I know we're not close, but if you need someone to talk to…,"

Lindsey blinked before stepping out onto the porch. "I try, you know? I really try. I always try to do what's best for my family. And maybe I try too hard most of the time…I know that I'm controlling and smothering," Lindsey's voice trembled, "but every single action and thought I've had for the last seventeen years has been in the best interest of my family."

Lindsey sat down on the porch steps, rubbing a hand across her forehead. Elle seated herself next to Lindsey, awkwardly waiting for her the older woman continue speaking.

"Lucas and Grace are my world. I love them so much and our family means everything to me. And with families it's usually supposed to work both ways, you know? They give to you and you give to them and everybody supports each other. But I never felt like that with Lucas. I couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't always love me as much as I love him." Lindsey sniffed, tears flowing steadily down her cheeks, "I love him so much, but he loves someone else. How am I supposed to compete with Peyton Sawyer?"

Elle drew a sharp breath as something in her chest lurched. Lindsey bowed her head, a sob hitching in her throat. "And I don't blame you for that, I don't, and I know that I haven't taken the time to get to know you, and I'm sorry. I let my fear of my husband's relationship with your mother keep me from letting you into my life. And that's not fair to you. I'm sorry for that."

"It's okay…," Elle said gently, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach caused by the knowledge of Lucas's feelings toward her mother.

"I know I haven't treated you very well. But I'm just under so much stress right now, with raising Grace and working full time and trying to get through to Lucas, and I just- I just don't know what to do anymore!" Lindsey cried, tears falling thick and fast. "I'm trying so hard to understand him and to make him happy! I'm trying so hard, but everything I do is wrong! I don't know what to do! I can't let my family fall apart!"

Lindsey buried her face in her hands, her back shaking with sobs. Elle twisted her hands together in her lap, wondering if she should put an arm around the crying woman. The wheels turned in her mind as she tried to think of something, anything, to say.

"It's okay," Elle said lamely. Her brow furrowed as she took a deep breath before speaking again. "I know how it feels to want someone so bad who refuses to respond to you." She said slowly, as Lindsey looked back up at her. "And it's painful and it sucks. But…but if there's one thing that I've learned this summer, it's that redemption isn't as hard as everyone thinks it is. He'll come around. Just don't give up on him."

Lindsey gave her a watery smile, putting a hand on Elle's knee. "You really are a sweet girl."

_Then _

_Brooke was exhausted. _

_Larry's arrival in Los Angeles that afternoon hadn't gone as smoothly as she had planned. It was bad enough that Peyton reacted so awfully to her father's presence in the house, but now Peyton refused to leave her bedroom. _

_Brooke tried to press on, by cooking dinner and fixing up the other guest room. She watched fondly as Elle quickly became very taken with her maternal grandfather, hovering over his shoulder as he worked on a pipe under the kitchen sink. _

_Peyton refused to come down for dinner, Brooke's heart sinking as she looked at the empty space across from her own at the kitchen table. Elle, who sat across from Larry, was chatting cheerfully, chirping about meaningless six-year-old interests, bouncing happily in her chair. Brooke felt a rush of gratitude toward the little girl, thankful that she was distracting Larry from worrying too much about Peyton. _

_Elle's little girl innocence captivated Larry, his eyes lighting up in a way Brooke had never seen before. A wide grin would spread across his face every time Elle giggled or laughed, and before Elle went up to bed that evening, she wrapped her tiny arms around her grandpa's waist, wishing him sweet dreams. Brooke could have sworn she saw tears in Larry's eyes as he hugged the little girl back. _

_After Elle had brushed her teeth and taken a bath, Brooke let her go into Peyton's room to say good night. Brooke hovered in the doorway as Elle and Peyton had a whispered conversation that Brooke could not hear. Elle emerged from Peyton's room with a sleepy smile on her face and kissed Brooke good night before disappearing into her room at the end of the hall. Brooke watched the door close behind her before stepping into Peyton's dark room. _

"_Hey, P." she said tentatively, seating herself on the edge of Peyton's bed. Peyton rolled over, turning her back toward Brooke. Brooke swallowed a newly formed lump in her throat. "Peyton, please don't be angry at me for bringing him here." _

"_I'm not mad at you," came Peyton's flat, emotionless response. "I just don't feel like talking right now." _

"_Yes you are mad. I know you, Peyton. And I'm sorry for hurting you by telling him to come." Brooke shook her head. "I'm sorry you're upset by that, and I know you are dealing with so much sadness and grief right now, but you can't deal with things this way. You can't clam up and lock yourself in your room. That's not going to change anything or make it go away." _

_Peyton's sheets rustled as she shifted under the covers, curling herself into a tight ball. Brooke sighed. _

"_P., I know you've been through hell and back, but I also know that holding all this anger in is just going to make it all worse. Speaking from experience here…," Brooke shrugged, "When we were both so involved with Lucas in high school, I was so hurt and betrayed by what happened between the two of you. And instead of talking to you about it, I shut you out completely. I cut off all ties from you and refused to be your friend. I spent a good part of two years miserable and angry and missing my best friend. I couldn't let go of my anger and I just let it all build up. But once we worked everything out, that anger was gone." _

_Peyton finally rolled over, looking up at Brooke from her pillow. "Why did you forgive me, anyway?" _

"_Because you're my best friend, Peyton. I never stopped loving you or caring about you, but I was so mad. And it took my pride a while to get over it, but when I realized how happy you were, suddenly it all just didn't matter as much as seeing you finally happy." Brooke ran a hand over Peyton's curls. "I know you love your dad, and I understand that you're hurt by his absence…but…just try talking to him about it. It's okay to still be mad. But don't shut yourself away in this dark room, P. Let yourself learn to heal." _

Now 

After she cleaned herself up, Lindsey left for work around eleven, telling Elle that she was more than welcome to wait around for Lucas and Grace to return. Elle, grateful, waited patiently in the living room until Grace walked in the front door some twenty minutes later.

Grace greeted her happily, saying that Lucas ran to the auto store to get some parts for the comet, and should be back later that afternoon. She joined her on the couch and they watched TV for a few minutes before Grace pulled Elle up from the comfortable suede couch, dragging her into her bedroom, retrieving a large paper bag and then pulling her out onto the porch.

Grace proceeded to empty the large bag onto the wooden planks, and Elle was surprised to see that the contents of this bag just so happened to be balls of yarn and various knitting needles.

"No offense, Grace, but you're probably the last person in the world I'd expect to take up knitting." Elle laughed, holding a ball of yellow yarn in her hands.

"Yeah, I guess it's not something most girls my age do." Grace smiled, holding a large square of colorful yarn. "I'm working on an afghan blanket. It's like, nowhere near done yet, but it's gonna look totally awesome when it's finished."

Elle studied the square for a moment, wondering how in the world grace managed to knit it together out of yarn. "You're really talented, Grace."

Grace smiled again, flushing slightly. "Thanks! But it's really easy, I'll teach you."

She gave Elle another set of needles and yarn to work on while she went back to working on her afghan. It definitely was not as easy as Grace made it seem when she began to show Elle what to do; there were too many loops and knots and little tricks that Elle just couldn't keep up with.

"I'm not too good at this." Elle snorted, after a few minutes, holding her yarn in a tangled mess, the knitting needles sticking out of the ball in odd places.

"No, it just takes practice. It's all muscle memory." Grace's needles clicked as she worked, "Once your hands know what to do, it's all mindless. It's like, the best way to relax at the end of the day." A sudden wave of sadness washed over Grace's expression. "I just put in my headphones and go to town…totally blocking everything else out."

Grace paused, hanging her head. Elle's brow furrowed in concern. "Grace?"

"It's getting bad, Elle. Like, really bad." Grace said softly. "My parents. I mean, you know how tense things are between them. But it's getting worse now, now they like barely even look at each other anymore. And I like…I-, I don't know what to do."

Elle set the ball of yarn down on the deck and scooted closer to Grace. Grace let out a shuddering breath. "I don't want my family to split up. That's not us. That _can't _be us."

As strange as it had been to see Lindsey crying earlier, it was equally unnerving to see bubbly, perky, happy Grace looking so forlorn. Elle took Grace's hand in hers. "I don't really know what to say to make the situation any better. It's impossible not to get emotionally involved when your parents are having problems. But don't let it become _you_. Don't let their problems become the off-on switch for your own happiness. That won't lead to anything but resentment."

"Then what can I do?"

"Honestly?" Elle sighed, "Not much. I guess you can use this as a learning experience for yourself…to not end up like they are now. Trust me when I say that watching your parents screw things up for themselves is a sure fire way not to make the same mistake."

Grace blinked.

"But…but don't be angry about it." Elle found herself saying, "Don't hate them for making mistakes and not always doing things right. Maybe…maybe sometimes the best thing out parents can teach us is to not be like them."

Grace gave a small smile. "Since when did you start being so optimistic?"

"I'm hardly an optimist, Grace." Elle snorted.

"Well I am." Grace lifted her chin a little higher. "Y'know, a lot of people think that being hopeful is like really naïve. But I think it's brave. And all the people who go about their days with negative outlooks on everything are just being scared. They don't want to hope for things because they're afraid of getting let down or whatever. But I think optimists are strong." She shrugged. "I mean, if you're not going to hope for something, then why bother caring at all?"

Elle exhaled, her mind reeling from her sister's words. "Don't ever become a broken person, Grace. The world needs more people like you."

_Then_

_It was well into the middle of the night, but Larry could not seem to fall asleep. Brooke had gone to sleep hours earlier, and little Elle a few hours before that. But he hadn't seen his daughter since he had taken her upstairs after she broke down in front of him. _

_Larry gave a sigh as he shifted in the rickety armchair in the living room, flipping through a LA newspaper. On the coffee table to his left, a tiny lamp's feeble light cast drastic shadows in the large, dimly lit room._

_He lowered his head in misery. It was awful, seeing Peyton cry like that today…seeing her cry like that because of him. Peyton had always been such a strong girl, even after Anna passed. But this Peyton was hardened, angry, nothing like the cheerful, happy girl she used to be. When had she changed into such a broken person? What happened to his little girl? _

_But Larry knew, with a sickening feeling, that everything Peyton had said to him was true. He had spent so many years away, trying to build a life for her by making money. But that wasn't what Peyton needed. He'd been a blind, stupid, foolish man to leave her alone for so long, thinking that she was strong enough to be fine with it. He was foolish not to see through his daughter's mask all those years as she told him that she was fine. He was wrong to assume and expect so many things from a girl who had lost so much. And now, she had broken completely, and he hadn't been there to try and hold her together. He was a fool. He should have known better. _

_The creaking staircase made his head shoot back up, just in time to see Peyton slowly climbing down, quietly making her way over to him. _

"_Can't sleep?" She asked, her voice slightly raspy, as though she hadn't used it in a very long time. Larry shook his head. "Me either." _

_Larry swallowed and stood up, meeting Peyton halfway between his chair and the staircase. She tensed slightly as he placed both hands on her shoulders, but did not step away from him. "Baby girl, I'm so sorry that I haven't been here for you over the years. It was so wrong of me to stay away when you needed me the most. It was so wrong of me to think that the best way to provide for you was by working. I was wrong and I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry. Please, Peyton, please believe how sorry I am." _

"_I do." Peyton said quietly, chewing on her lip and avoiding his gaze._

"_I love you so much, Peyton, and I need you to know that I promise to always be here for you." Larry's voice was gruff, "I am here for you and I will do whatever it takes to help you overcome your loss." _

"_I'm still mad at you," Peyton shifted on her feet and looked up at him. "But…I'm glad you're here. I love you, daddy."_

_Larry exhaled a long, shaky breath and pulled his daughter into a hug. They stood like that for a few moments before Peyton spoke, her words muffled by his chest. "Dad?" _

"_Yeah, sweetheart?" _

_She looked up at him, her green eyes shining in the dim light. "How did you get passed it? When mom died? How does that pain go away?" _

_Larry sighed and rubbed a hand down Peyton's back. "It doesn't ever go away, honey. Grief isn't something that you get passed. It's something you learn to deal with. It's something you learn to overcome. It's all a learning experience." He met her gaze, smiling sadly. "But you wanna know how I got through it?"_

"_How?" _

"_I had you." _

Now 

"God, you look so much like her." Lucas smiled sadly, turning the page of the photo album.

"So I've been told," Elle replied airily, her shoulder touching Lucas's as they sat side by side on the bumper of the Comet.

Lucas continued to look at the photographs, the expressions on his face changing as he glanced at different pictures. Elle was relieved that this particular album only contained pictures of her when she was a little girl.

"Brooke was the one who was always taking pictures." Elle said, as Lucas turned another page. "We don't have many after she left. And I don't think we have any at all after my mom died." She shrugged, "I guess keeping memories just seemed pointless after that. I don't think any of us wanted to remember all of that misery we felt."

Lucas nodded, not taking his eyes off the book. Elle took a deep breath, hesitating slightly before speaking. "I…uh, I talked to Lindsey today."

"What?" Lucas finally looked up at her, slightly surprised.

"I went by the house earlier, looking for you. She answered the door…and we talked. I don't know what's going on between you two, but she was really upset about it." Elle said rather quickly; nervous about upsetting him by prying into his personal life. "And you know…I actually kind of like her."

Lucas gave her a smile that did not meet his eyes. "You don't need to worry about me and Lindsey."

Elle bit her lip. She knew it wasn't her place. She spoke again, trying to change the subject. "You know, it's weird seeing all this stuff again." She pointed at the photo album. "All these memories. But it's even weirder not feeling angry about it. I don't know why I'm not upset by looking at these anymore."

"You're healing." Lucas said simply.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am." Elle smiled fondly, her hand grazing a photograph, her fingertips brushing the face of the little girl she used to be. She was healing. She was healing, and it felt incredible. She took a deep breath as a wave of happiness flooded her chest.

But then she looked at Lucas. There was no relief or happiness in his eyes; just sad, painful regret. He was still broken and lost, his heart aching for a woman who had been dead for years. Elle knew that pain, his pain. It was funny to think that he'd been grieving too, all the way across the country. It was funny that they had been grieving over the same person at the same time without knowing of each other's existence at all.

But it was talking to Lindsey this morning that really made Elle look at Lucas like this. Although she understood his pain, she found herself growing more and more sympathetic toward his wife, a woman who was desperately trying to bring her husband out of the past.

Maybe it wasn't her place, but Elle suddenly didn't care. "I know how she feels. Lindsey. I spent years trying to get through to my mom, trying to bring her out of the past and appreciate what she had in the present. And it would break my heart every day to see her not responding to my attempts, but I kept trying because I cared too much about her not to."

Lucas looked back up at her with an expression that she couldn't read.

"Don't to that, Lucas. Don't treat Lindsey like the way my mom treated me. She loves you and cares about you and she's _alive. _She's alive and she loves you, but you're breaking her." Elle slid off the bumper and faced him. "Don't shut yourself away from the people who love you the most."

Life is all about learning lessons. But these lessons are meaningless if nothing is gained from it.

The most important thing is not the lesson itself, but how that lesson is reciprocated.

Today, Elle was not the broken girl in need of advice. Instead, she was the one _helping _the broken. And even though she still saw shards of glass around her feet, Elle knew that she could put them back together. Today, she had gained the full value of a lesson learned.

"We have to let her go, Lucas. We have to let my mom go." Elle's jaw was set as she continued, "I'm tired of harboring all of these feelings toward her, toward what happened to her. Brooke taught me to let go of my own guilt. I still feel bad, and it still hurts sometimes, but I'm getting passed what I did. And I think that it's time to get passed what she did too. We're never going to have a happy future if we keep living in the past." She grabbed her father's hand. "We have to let her go."

Life is all about learning lessons, but a lesson is only a lesson if one is able to help themselves or someone else with the knowledge that they have gained. As Ralph Waldo Emerson puts it, _"It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life: that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself"._

Lucas squeezed back, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know."

* * *

** Elle and Lindsey, Elle and Grace, Elle and Lucas, and then Peyton in between! hmm, ****please let me know what you thought! :) next chapter...more reconciliations...but you're just going to have to wait and see! :) Thanks everyone, and pleeease take care! **

**Love, Brennan :)  
**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hellooo! I'm so happy that I am finally updating- I've actually been working on ch.25 and 26 at the same time, and while it sounded like a great idea at first, actually made this a lot more difficult to finish. I kept changing my mind, and although I'm not sure if I'm fully satisfied with the whole thing, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :) **

**Guess what, guys? I just started my senior year of high school! Yeah, yeah, you probably don't care, but it's incredibly exciting for me! :D hehehee. My reviewers, as always, you deserve so much more than my thanks :)**

**

* * *

**It was a calm August day. One of those days that's appreciated for being particularly mellow and relaxing, a day that's cleansing for the soul, a day that makes life seem a little more blissfully simple.

Lucas Scott woke up that morning feeling unusually hopeful. Maybe it was because he had finally finished his work on the Comet. Maybe it was because of the words that had Elle said to him earlier that week. Or perhaps it was merely the weather; the way the warm sun flooded his room as he awoke to a calm August day.

But, no matter the reason, Lucas Scott was feeling unusually hopeful, even though everything had seemed so dark and bleak for the last month. Despite every problem that had plagued him, every horrible, terrible thing that had caused him to become so broken, he felt hopeful today. The depression was gone; symptoms vanished as though he was recovering from nothing but a mere cold.

Lucas knew that his problems were still prominent. That pain in his heart and the pain he had inflicted on others- it was still there, still existing in this brighter, more possible world. But today, Lucas Scott was feeling unusually hopeful. He knew that today, things were going to progress. Today, he would fix his problems.

The little bell tinkled, like it always did, as Lucas stepped through the door of Clothes over Bros. Brooke stood behind the counter, glancing up at the sound of someone entering the store.

"Lucas," Brooke's face flashed with concern. "Is everything okay?"

A small pang of guilt radiated in his chest. Their friendship had fallen so far from what it once was; they had grown so distant that Brooke now thought that he would only drop by if something bad happened.

"Everything's fine," He quickly assured her, holding his hands up. "I'm, uh, I'm here to talk."

Brooke's expression immediately changed, a look of uneasiness filling her eyes. Lucas was reminded of Elle, the way she used to act around him right after Avery's accident. Brooke's hesitancy toward him was a result of her guilt, he realized, a guilt that she had carried around for eighteen years.

"Okay," she said quietly, biting her lip and gripping the counter with her hands. "Talk about what?"

"I've been in a dark place this summer. So many secrets were uncovered about the past, and they all hit me so hard that I wasn't able to handle it. And that wasn't my fault. I was kept in the dark and that was wrong." Lucas sighed, running a hand along the back of his neck. Brooke was wincing, as though bracing herself for him to start screaming at her. "But…even though I was wronged, I also handled it wrong. I let myself wallow in my misery, let myself stay broken, despite all of the efforts of the ones who needed me back in one piece."

Brooke, holding her breath, watched him with wide eyes as he stepped across the store and over to the counter, the slap of formica now the only thing between them.

"I yelled at you. I screamed at you. I was shocked by the betrayal of friendship." Lucas said. Brooke momentarily closed her eyes. "But…I've been buried so deep in this dark hole that I never really fully appreciated that Elle is in my life _now_. And even though it still kills me that I wasn't there to watch her grow up, I can't keep holding this grudge forever. I can't carry it around anymore. I can't keep feeling this miserable, and I can't keep bringing my family down because of it. I am finally ready to get passed it all."

"That's…that's wonderful, Lucas-," Brooke began, but Lucas kept speaking.

"I know that ever since I found out about Elle, and how you and Peyton lied to me, I've been distant from you. And I'll never fully understand why you two chose to do that," Lucas leaned in a little closer. "But when you came to see me at my house, you told me that she could heal me. You said that Elle could help heal that pain in my heart. And I may have scoffed at first, but you were right. It's working. I'm finally letting go of Peyton and that pain." Lucas grabbed Brooke's hand, looking her straight in the eyes. "Now I can see that things will be okay. And I can forgive you. I forgive you, Brooke."

Brooke gaped at him, her hand going slack in his. "I forgive you." He said again, a small smile playing his lips. She continued to stare at him for a moment before her face crumpled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I never…I never thought I'd hear you say that to me," Brooke whispered, a sob hitching in her throat. "And I still don't even know if I deserve it."

"You do. You deserve it, Brooke." Lucas said, "You brought my daughter and me together again. And even though I will always be hurt by what you and Peyton did, I can let it go now. I can let it go and appreciate my life."

"It was wrong. I was _so_ wrong of us, Lucas, and it was wrong of me to let it stay hidden for so long." Brooke was still crying, her voice quiet and strained, "I made a promise to her, Luke, but I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for ever making it in the first place. It was so wrong."

Lucas stepped around the counter, enveloping the crying woman into a hug. "It _was_ wrong. But I forgive you. You taught Elle so much about forgiveness by forgiving her after Avery's accident. You helped her grow so much. You helped her and she helped me. Let yourself be forgiven, Brooke."

Brooke let out a small sob and looked up at him, her puffy eyes meeting his. "Thank you."

It was a calm August day. One of those days that's appreciated for being particularly mellow and relaxing, a day that's cleansing for the soul, a day that makes life seem a little more blissfully simple.

As he left Brooke's store, Lucas smiled to himself. An incredible weight had been lifted from his shoulders as his heart slowly began to piece itself back together. He took off up the street, knowing that there was one more person he needed to see.

* * *

Her curls billowed behind her as she walked side by side with Matt up the dock at the Tree Hill Marina. The warm sun beat down on her shoulders as their footsteps echoed on the wooden planks.

Matt had woken her up that morning, bursting into her room and pulling the shades back. He cheerily told her that Jamie and Hannah were taking their parents' boat out on the river today, and invited them to come with.

Jamie waved to them as they approached a large white speedboat at the end of the dock. "Hey guys! Glad you could make it!"

Elle greeted him cheerfully as Matt clapped him on the shoulder. Looking into the boat, she saw Grace and Hannah were already bikini-clad and sunning themselves on the floor of the bow.

"Mind giving me a hand?" Jamie said, his hands working to unwrap the ropes that tied the boat to the dock. He gestured over at Grace and Hannah. "They're useless."

"We can hear you, you know!" Hannah called, without looking over or sitting up.

"Exactly. And I rest my case!" Jamie shot back. Matt snorted.

"Hi, Elle!" Grace chirped, from her spot in the boat. "And Matt!"

"Yeah, hey, guys!" Hannah added, "Don't let my idiot brother try and boss you around! You shouldn't have to do his job!"

With a small laugh, Elle knelt down next to Jamie, while Matt went to take care of the other rope. Once it was undone, Matt stepped off the dock and into the boat, helping Elle as she gingerly climbed in, Jamie close behind her.

"Alright! Let's get outta here!" Jamie started the motor before slowly backing the boat away from the dock.

She had never been on a boat before, and as they began to pick up speed, Elle found herself gripping the hand rail as tightly as she could. She glanced at Matt, who appeared at her side, giving him a shaky smile and hoping that it came off as excited, rather than nervous. Matt saw her nerves anyway, and with a reassuring laugh, he ran a comforting hand down her back. Elle leaned into him for a moment, a wordless thank-you for his extreme perception.

Her nerves were short lived, however, for as they continued to ride up the river, Elle began to enjoy the way the boat seemed to glide across the choppy water, the small bumps spraying water onto her warm skin.

There were quite a few boats on the river, all leaving streaming white wakes behind them. As they passed another large white speedboat, Jamie sharply cut to the right, driving straight into the passing boat's wake. Elle dug her nails into Matt's skin as she grabbed his forearm as their boat sailed into the air for a moment, before crashing back into the water with two high pitched shrieks from Grace and Hannah.

"Dude! Did you see that? We just got so much air!" Jamie cried, a huge grin spread across his face. He slowed the boat to a stop before raising his arms up in mock-victory, "Hell yeah! That was so awesome!"

"No it wasn't," Grace moaned, finally sitting up, "I think I bruised my tailbone."

"Yeah, Jamie," Hannah grumbled, "Use your head. We weren't holding on to anything! I could have broken something! I made varsity swim this year and I'd be really pissed off if I had to-,"

Jamie, with a smirk on his face, wordlessly grabbed Hannah around the waist, and before she could react, tossed her over the side. She gave a loud yelp before hitting the water with a magnificent _smack_. Shocked, Elle, Matt and Grace raced over to the side of the boat, peering over just in time to see Hannah break the surface, gasping and spluttering loudly.

"Jamie!" Hannah screeched, flopping her arms wildly, splashing water all around herself. "What the hell!"

Jamie grinned down at her. "You know…for a varsity swimmer, your form's a little off, Han."

Hannah scowled. "Yeah, you're hilarious, Jamie. Ha-ha-ha." She swam back to the side of the boat, reaching her arms toward them. "Now pull me back up! Get me out!"

"Drama queen." Jamie muttered, leaning over the side and grabbing his sister's hands, hoisting her back into the boat. Hannah made sure to ring her long dark hair out on top of Jamie's sheepskin moccasins.

Elle let out a happy sigh as she listened to her cousins bickering behind her, her elbows resting on the railing. There was something so serene about being out in the water like this; it was almost as though they were in another world, a world that was just close enough to reality but far enough away to forget her troubles.

She looked out to shore, faintly making out the tables and hoops of the rivercourt. It looked so much smaller from out here. The hoops that towered over her and the hill that took ages to walk up now looked miniature, so much more innocent and simple. Maybe it really was. Maybe she just needed to come out here and look at it from a different perspective-all together, the big picture- to see that life wasn't as enormous and vast as she thought.

"Elle, what are you doing?" Grace asked. Elle looked up, realizing that she was the only one still leaning over the side. "You want to get in the tube with me and Han?"

"Yeah, the water's _great_," Hannah shot a look at Jamie.

Elle shrugged. "Maybe in a minute."

"What are you looking at?" Grace was back at her side, gazing out into the water as well.

"Just…everything." Elle said, gesturing out at the horizon, "It's such a nice day. It's so beautiful and perfect in this very moment. I just wanted to appreciate that for once."

Matt appeared on her other side and gave her arm a light squeeze as Jamie and Hannah joined them again as well. They all stared out into the river for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the small, choppy waves hitting the side of the boat.

"Look at us." Grace spoke up. She pointed a nimble finger down into the water at the five distorted figures reflecting off the surface. "Our parents all created a beautiful story for themselves; five teenagers trying to find their way. Five teenagers who came together through all the pain and confusion in their lives, helping each other overcome everything. That was their story. I think it's kind of ours, too."

Elle looked down at her reflection in the water. It was smiling.

* * *

"Lindsey,"

He found her curled like a cat on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of instant noodles sitting on the coffee table beside her. She hadn't touched them.

Lindsey looked up as he entered the room, her eyes darkening. "Yes?"

Lucas glanced at the television. "_Gone with the Wind. _ I remember the first time we watched this together, when Grace was a baby. She had a cold, remember? The only way we got her to stop crying was to hold her between us. We sat here, on the couch, with Grace sleeping in our arms, watching _Gone with the Wind._ It was one of the most clear, peaceful moments of my life."

Lindsey let out a long slow breath. "I remember that too."

"Where's Grace?"

"She went out with Jamie and Hannah." Lindsey's eyes were back on the TV, trying to shut him out. Lucas's chest filled with regret, noticing for the first time how truly broken his wife looked. How broken she looked because of _him. _

"Lindsey," He said again, sitting down next to her.

Her eyes snapped in his direction, a look of exasperation on her face. "What? What do you want, Lucas?"

"I—I'm sorry. I need to tell you that I'm sorry." Lucas said, as Lindsey's expression softened slightly. "I need you to know how sorry I am for treating you the way I have."

"That's great that you're sorry, Luke. But I've spent the last month waiting around for you to say that to me. Why now? Why are you sorry now?" Lindsey's tone was not accusatory or angry, but flat and exhausted, as though she was tired of speaking about the matter.

"I really don't know, Linds. I don't know why it's taken me this long to come around. And I hate myself for it. I hate that I was so selfish in the way I was acting, the way I shut you out and hid away with my past. I didn't think about how much that would affect you and Grace." Lucas paused. "I was wrong. I was _so _wrong to you. And I'm sorry. Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"I love you, Lucas. I'll do anything for us to go back to the way we were." Lindsey shook her head sadly. "But it's not that easy. You know that. You know that it's going to take time for us to heal."

"I know that you're still mad at me," Lucas grabbed her hand, "but I am willing to do anything and everything to make it up to you. I will do all I can to prove to you that I am still the man you married."

"I don't want to keep being mad at you." Lindsey said softly. All the flatness had left her now quivering voice. "Actually, I wasn't ever mad at all. Just hurt, and sad, and I wish I _was_ mad at you. It'd be easier that way. It's easier to get over anger than to get over this kind of sadness." Her voice broke, "How can we ever go back to the way we were knowing that you are still in love with Peyton? It won't ever be the same, Lucas; I can't ever feel the same about this marriage knowing that your heart is with someone else!"

Lucas reached up and cupped her face with his free hand and rubbed a thumb across her cheek, brushing away a stray tear. "Yes, I'll always love Peyton. But not in the way I love you. I chose _you. _My heart isn't with anyone else but you_._" Lucas brought his other hand to her cheek, his fingers brushing against her beautiful skin. "Whenever I think of Peyton, I'm overwhelmed by grief. But when I think of you, my whole world seems brighter and more clear. You are the one that makes my life as great as it is. You have never once brought me sadness."

More tears fell from Lindsey's eyes as he continued on, "I hurt you. I hurt you because I was hurting, and I am so sorry for that. But I believe that we can get back to the way we used to be because you are my wife, and I love you. I am letting go of Peyton. I'm letting go of my sadness and pain. But I can never let go of you. I love you, and we can get passed this."

"I love you too." Lindsey choked back a sob as Lucas kissed her fiercely, their lips pressing together desperately, hungrily. And then she broke away from him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his chest.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"For what?"

"For being the man I love. I missed him."

"I missed him too."

* * *

With the tan from a day in the sun on her shoulders, Elle gave a satisfied sigh as she retrieved a box from her closet, the sunset basking her room in a sleepy, comfortable hue that complimented her newly red walls. Placing the box on her bed, Elle settled down next to it, retrieving a black, spiral-bound sketchbook from inside.

It was something she had been doing every evening since she arrived back in Tree Hill. Her mother had a ridiculous amount of them, varying from ones roughly the size of printer paper to ones that were small enough to keep in a jacket pocket. Every night, Elle took one from the box and studied it, running her fingers along the cover before slowly opening it up, revealing Peyton's innermost thoughts and feelings.

Many of them were dated, and Elle noticed a pattern of regression in her mother's artwork as the dates grew more and more recent. Most of the sketchbooks were dated to back before Elle was born, filled with drawings that portrayed incredible angst, emotion and surrealism, many pertaining to whatever was happening to Peyton at the time. But the few more recent sketchbooks, the ones Peyton filled during her sickly adult life, were surprisingly dull; the insightful abstractions replaced with still life drawings of things around the house, such as a leg of a chair, the staircase, the television set. Peyton had often drawn the same subject numerous times in a row, as though she wasn't satisfied with the previous observation.

This sketchbook looked a little different than most of the others, the pages between the black hard covers seemed to be much thinner than the paper filling many of the other sketchbooks, and it did not look as though it had gotten much use.

Elle continued to study the outside for a few more moments before she took a deep breath and slowly opened the front cover, curiosity beating hard in her ears. But a wave of unexpected shock hit her hard as she glanced down at the first page, memories flooding into her mind faster than a dam breaking. Her hands trembled slightly as the surprise of this discovery caused all else in the world to stop.

Roughly a year after Brooke left, Larry had made Peyton start seeing Dr. Asher, a psychologist at the Family Counseling Center who specialized in mood and anxiety disorders. Peyton went in to see Dr. Asher twice a week—once by herself, and once with both Larry and Elle. Elle remembered how much her mother had loathed attending these therapy sessions, eventually refusing to go to them at all.

Elle could barely recall the things that went on during those family sessions with Dr. Asher, and never knew what kind of things Peyton had talked about with him when she met with him alone. It all happened so long ago…memories of that time further stifled by Elle's previous desire to forget her past. But now, as she held the black book in her hands, Elle remembered something else, something that had not once crossed her mind in eight years.

Dr. Asher had insisted that Peyton keep a journal to track mood progressions. It was not a sketchbook that Elle held in her shaking hands, but a diary; A diary in her mother's words, her handwriting. This was her mother's diary.

There weren't very many entries; probably ten or so, but it was insight, insight at last into the mind of a woman Elle had never been able to understand. She exhaled slowly, realizing that she'd been holding her breath for several moments.

As her heart raced rapidly, Elle rested her back against the pillows and began to read.

It was a calm August day. One of those days that's appreciated for being particularly mellow and relaxing, a day that's cleansing for the soul, a day that makes life seem a little more blissfully simple.

But it's days like those that can cause a sudden, unexpected surprise to hit with the greatest impact.

* * *

**Heh, are you curious? TOO BAD! Just kidding, I'm already halfway done with ch26, so my next update should be a lot sooner :) IN THE MEANTIME...care to tell me what you thought? :) Lucas and Brooke finally reconciled, as did Lucas and Lindsey, and Elle's fun day ended in a very big surprise. This story is beginning to wrap up...I only have two more chapters after this one. AH, I can hardly believe that I've made it this far! Until next time, take care :)**

**Love, Brennan  
**


	26. Interlude: Peyton

**I think this is the fastest I've EVER updated, but i was just so excited about this chapter that i couldn't stop. :) It's a little different, but hopefully a great twist. Reviewers, thank you so much for motivating me even more to get this written so quickly. Enjoy! **

**

* * *

**

_**Interlude: Peyton**_

_**April 20**__**th**_

_So…this is my first entry. I was told to keep a daily journal to track my mood progressions. And frankly, I think it's crap. I express myself through art and music. I don't express myself by writing in a diary like Anne freakin' Frank or something. But alright, Dr. Asher, we'll play it your way. Treat me like I'm some psychotic mental case. THAT will sure help me feel more normal. _

_So what do I talk about? Myself? I really don't know what to say. And besides, half the time I'm saying shit that I don't even know where it came from. But I guess that's just the fun of having bipolar disorder. My moods are like a never-ending game of Russian roulette. _

_I'm lucid now. Not too high, not too low. Just freakin' right, Goldilocks. _

_On the spectrum, I'm classified as having Bipolar II. Basically, I'm prone to periods of severe depression and periods of hyper activity (hypomanic, or mildly manic). When I'm in a hypomanic state, my energy level goes through the roof. I don't sleep. I feel the need to make something, where I will spend hours drawing or painting. I become hyper focused on something. I also become frivolous; I go on shopping sprees, I drink shamelessly. I'm also unbelievably irritable, where I lose my cool really freakin' easily. _

_But the depression is the worst. It's relentless, like a wave of sadness pummeling me full-force and holding me under the surf for days, leaving me tumbling around in the blackness. I don't really know how I come out of these depressions, but one day I'll just wake up and not feel bad anymore. Like I've suddenly come to my senses or something. _

_It's confusing as hell. _

_I was diagnosed about three years ago. Well, first, they misdiagnosed me as depressed. They gave me anti-depressants, but unknowingly to me or them, I didn't suffer from clinical depression at all. Anti-depressants in bipolar disorder have been known to make hypomanic episodes a lot worse. And a week into the medication, it actually triggered a full blown manic episode, causing me to have an anxiety attack so intense that I was hospitalized. _

_I went off the meds. That was when I received my second diagnosis: Bipolar, or Manic Depression. That just made me feel crazier than ever. I had a pretty severe depressive period after that, during which, I was admitted into a psychiatric hospital, where I was classified as type II, and given new meds. _

_Whatever. Now, after a two year hiatus from therapy, Dad forced me into coming to see Dr. Asher twice a week. And I was given…a diary. _

_And look, I'm writing in it. But do I feel any less Bipolar? No. Do I feel like this is helping at all? No. _

_I'm going to sleep. It's time to spin the wheel and see what I will be tomorrow. _

…

_**April 22**__**nd**_

_When you are bipolar, you're often asked what stressful events in your life might have triggered your mood swings. _

_I couldn't help but laugh when I was asked that question. I laughed. Like literally out loud; a big, powerful, gut-busting, belly laugh. _

_I mean, give me a freakin' break. I have a whole laundry list of shit that's happened to me in my 31 years of life. Why, Dr. Asher, I have a very large selection of scenarios to choose from! Which would you like to hear first? How about the time I got shot in the leg at my high school? Or when I was terrorized by a psycho stalker pretending to be my brother? Or maybe the time my boyfriend left me alone in a hotel room, only for me to find out that I was pregnant with his child! Or what about when my mom died? Or my when my birth mom died? Or when my husband died! _

_Please, Dr. Asher, take your pick. _

_Is it any wonder why I am the way I am? How does anyone even know if I'm really 'bipolar' or not, anyway? I could just be some pissed off, dramatic woman who's unstable because off all the SHIT that I've gone through. Where's the fine line between grieving and crazy? _

_Well, wherever it is, I apparently crossed it. _

_I picked Elle up from school earlier today. Elle's changed a whole lot since Brooke left last year. She's ten years old, but she's the one who holds the house down. She cleans without being asked, she cooks dinner, takes the garbage out. And I'm usually so lost in my own emotions; I never really thank her at all. _

_I hit her once. She said something uncharacteristically snarky, something rude. My anger flared up so fast that I didn't even realize I had slapped her until I saw the bright red handprint across her delicate cheek. _

_She is my clone, with my curls, my legs, my smile. But not my eyes. Elle doesn't have my eyes. And sometimes it's too damn hard to look at her without feeling like my heart is getting ripped out again. It's not fair to her, either. She senses my resentment. What kind of mother resents her child for something that was not even her fault? _

_I never told her about her father. And god, sometimes I hate myself for that. She used to ask about him all the time, especially after John died. She was curious, but I never answered her. She really doesn't ask anymore. Maybe that's just tact, because I know that she still wonders about it. She's growing up, and one day, I don't know how easy it's going to be to keep the truth from her when she's lost that childlike innocence. _

_I hated Dad for lying to me about being adopted. But I'm pretty much doing the exact same thing to my daughter as he did to me. I try to tell myself that I'm not a hypocrite. Sometimes, if I'm feeling particularly defensive, I'll blame my bipolar disorder for my shitty decision making skills. _

_I'm really hilarious. "Bipolar people are supposed to act crazy," I'll say, "You're expected to make idiotic decisions." _

_God, I'm insanely messed up. So should I laugh or cry? _

…

_**April 26**__**th**_

_I'm teetering; on the edge of slipping from stability into being depressed. It's an interesting place to be, standing on the edge of a cliff and peering over the side, looking down into the despair and nothingness down below. And I've been here before. The funny thing is, even now, when I know how horrible the depression periods are, I still can't stop myself from jumping over the edge. It's like holding a glass of wine in front of an alcoholic. They know it's bad, but they just can't help but take the drink anyway._

_I can always feel it coming on. I always know when I'm slipping into that darkness. But I can't ever do anything about it. And the more I think about how I do nothing to stop my depression, the faster I become depressed. _

_When I fall into my depressive state, I literally become a vegetable. I don't talk, I don't eat, I rarely leave my room. All I do is sleep; maybe I'll watch TV or read. I'll cry a lot. I'll feel so incredibly hopeless and empty. I won't take care of myself at all. _

_During these depressions, Dad and Elle have to force food down my throat. They have to make me take showers and change my clothes. They basically have to do everything for me as though I'm completely incompetent. I disgust myself when I have to watch my ten year old daughter taking care of me like I'm brain-dead. _

_And it's not like my brain suddenly 'forgets' how to do these things, either. I'm physically capable of doing everything when I'm depressed, but my mind just shuts off, making it impossible for me to complete simple tasks like brushing my hair. I just…don't care enough to do it. I don't eat…not because I don't know how to feed myself, but because I don't see the point in doing so. I don't care about anything when I'm depressed. I'm just empty. _

_When I'm not depressed, I'm usually hypomanic. Two completely different poles on an emotional spectrum. And they're both so damn strong. Then, when I'm teetering between the two states, like I am now, I can almost get a taste of what normalcy is. I'm not too high, not too low. But it's now- when I really reflect on myself, when I really see how I act during my different emotional states- where I feel the most crazy. _

_I wonder what normal feels like._

…

_**May 5**__**th**_

_It's been nearly two weeks since I've written anything. And in those two weeks, I completed a full cycle of a depressed to hypomanic mood swing. _

_On average, the highs and lows each only last a few days. Depending on influential factors in my life, sometimes the depression periods will be longer with short hypomanic periods in between, and vice versa. Sometimes an event can trigger a sudden depressive period, and those ones usually take the longest to recover from. _

_This cycle was abnormal in the fact that my depressive/hypomanic states lasted so long. I was depressed for nearly a week, followed by five more days of hypomania. I'm coming down from it now…we'll see how long it lasts before I'm back at the bottom again. _

_The seven day depression really took a lot out of me. I don't ever do much, because I always feel so emotionally drained. My days went like this: _

_Day 1- Spent the day reading Ravens. Elle brought me lunch on a tray. I didn't eat it. Reading that book made me feel worse than ever about my life. Bawled my eyes out until I fell asleep. _

_Day 2- Dad made me eat a bagel in the morning. It tasted like sawdust in my mouth and I just wanted to throw it up. Watched a movie marathon on Lifetime. Didn't leave my room at all. _

_Day 3- Migraine. Slept all day. _

_Day 4- Woke up to Elle bringing me food. This time I was so hungry that I ate it all. Elle was watching me like I was going to start yelling at her. She's afraid of me. That just made feel even worse. I cried. I took a bubble bath. I cried some more. I slept. _

_Day 5- I let Elle French-braid my hair. She was chattering on about her life, telling me things about herself. I can't remember a word she said…I wasn't ever listening in the first place. _

_Day 6- I woke up feeling a little more hopeful. But got a bad headache around noon, and spent the rest of the day asleep. _

_Day 7- Watched a lot of TV. Dad brought me food. Elle came in and cleaned up my room while I was sleeping. I didn't even see her at all today. But I didn't bother to ask where she was, either. _

_After that, I came out of it. I spent the next few days in my hypomanic state, doing things like scrubbing the whole kitchen clean, going on a shopping spree with money we didn't have to spend, and snapping at everyone who tried to hold me back. _

_Yesterday, I was still hypomanic. I spent seven hours making a pastel drawing of the wall across from my bed from observation. I was so zoned in on what I was doing that I forgot to pick Elle up from school. She walked home in the rain. But I was too irritated by the fact that she had tracked a pool of water into the house to apologize to my daughter for forgetting about her. And instead of getting defensive, Elle apologized for the mess. God, I'm a bitch. I should have been the one saying sorry. _

_Anyway, the drawing's perfect—there's not a shadow or line out of place. I don't hesitate when I say that I have an incredible artist's hand. I can take anything I see and transfer it onto paper. But my art is a far cry from what it used to be. Now, I just draw the things I see in front of me. I didn't always draw still lives. Once upon a time, my art had been original, genuine…emotional abstractions from the inner depths of my mind. _

_I used to believe in things. I used to be inspired by things. I used to care about making something meaningful and dynamic, to see what I could evoke from it. I miss that about myself, the way I was able to find so much meaning through my art and music. _

_I haven't touched my records in ages. The music used to bring so much insight into my life; it was my way of trying to understand my own confusion. It was my way of expressing my feelings and dealing with pain. But now I can't listen to those records without my heart aching for the person I used to be. _

_I'm going to read Ravens again. That damn book is the only proof I have that I wasn't always like this. _

…

_**May 10**__**th**_

_I hate myself today. _

_I'm sitting in my window seat, watching Elle play outside. She's by herself. When I was her age, I always had Brooke. I wonder if Elle has anyone to be a friend to her like that. I don't even know any of my daughter's friends. _

_Dad is always working on some project or another. Yesterday, it was the leaky faucet. Today it's the wobbly front porch railing. They're always stupid little things that don't really need fixing...just something he likes to work on to make himself feel like he's doing something helpful. But he doesn't see that the house isn't the problem. Sometimes I just want to go up to him and shake him. I want to shake him and scream in his face, "Don't fix the house! Fix me! Fix me!" _

_But then I remember that I'm probably broken beyond repair. _

…

_**May 13**__**th**_

_I spend way too much time reminiscing. And not in a good way, either. It's the worst when I'm depressed, but I can't help but do it all the time, occupying my thoughts with memories about when things were easier._

_I wonder if that's part of the manic depression, this painful tendency to be nostalgic. Or maybe it's just me, my own personality traits. It's funny…I don't even know what qualities about myself are my own or a result of Bipolar Disorder anymore. _

_Once, Dad tried to stop me from reading Ravens. He even grabbed the book right out of my hands. "You have to stop this!" He said, "Reading that book is just making you feel worse! You can't keep living with your head stuck in the past!" _

_I was so angry that he was just now noticing this, after years of living with me, that I snatched the book right back, glaring at him. "It's better than living with my head stuck up my ass." _

_I know I hurt him by saying that. He just looked at me for a minute before walking out of the room. And I know it's not like he doesn't care, it's not like he doesn't try…because he really does. But he's just so…blind. I feel like he's so emotionally distant from me, so disconnected. He cares, and he tries…but he doesn't SEE me. He treats me like a mental case, like a crazy person whose beliefs and emotions are a result of their mental instability. I HATE THAT. I want to be treated like a person with legitimate feelings and thoughts. I'm not mentally retarded; I am perfectly capable of feeling and understanding things like every normal person. But that's not what he sees. He just sees my diagnosis, as though it's stamped across my forehead._

_I know he tries. But he just doesn't understand me. Maybe that's because we never really spent a lot of time together when I was growing up. Maybe it's because I still resent him for staying away for so long. Or maybe he's just as broken as I am. _

_So, anyway… reminiscing. I'll kind of do it like a backwards timeline, thinking about the most recent things and working my way back. I'll think about how much easier it was to stay distracted when I was still working. I used to be an independent woman. I used to take pride in having a great career in the music industry. I took leave when I went into the hospital two years ago. But I never went back. And you know, I'm not really sure why. I think it's because I was afraid…afraid of not being able to go back to the way I was. I already felt like such a failure already, I guess I was just too afraid of failing something else. _

_Then I'll think about how things were so blissful when John was alive. Then I'll start thinking about Tree Hill…about Brooke and Lucas and that time when my life still made sense. (And by this time, I usually loose it. I either start bawling my eyes out or force myself to go to sleep; to shut myself away from the pain.)_

_I'll see faces, faces of people I used to know so well, who are now nothing but ghosts living in my memory. The faces are the worst; the easiest to picture yet the most painful to think about. Each face brings a flood of memories when it enters my mind, a lifetime of stories, lessons, situations and anecdotes that I could spend hours dwelling on. I'll see the faces of my old friends; of Nathan and Haley, Brooke…Lucas. I'll see Ellie, and I'll see my mom. _

_When remembering these people, I often see another face…a face that is so familiar to me, yet almost forgotten. It's my face. The face of the girl I used to be. But then I'll go back to thinking about the people of my past, the faces that can't leave my memory. First I'll think about the things they did in the past, my real memories. Sometimes I'll wonder if they ever think about me. Then I'll wonder about the kind of people they've become, I'll wonder what they're doing with their lives and if or how much they've changed. _

_And then, lastly, I'll think about how disappointed they'd be if they saw me now. _

…

_**May 17**__**th**_

_It's Elle's 11__th__ birthday today. _

_We went out to dinner as a family to her favorite restaurant. I put on as happy of a face as I could for her, even though I wanted to do nothing but stay in my bed and sleep. _

_At the restaurant, the lights were too dim and the music was too loud. I wasn't even hungry. But Elle was super happy, because we never eat out. That makes me feel even worse about myself; how something as silly as a family dinner could bring her so much happiness. That's something way too many people take for granted. I mean, damn, when I was eleven, I worried about things like boys and my body changing. Elle worries about her family staying together. And that's not fair to her at all._

_But tonight she was happy. She and Dad talked and talked…while I kept throwing back glasses of wine. We were all supposed to see a movie after dinner tonight. But I fell asleep at the table before Elle was even done with her dessert. So they took me home before going to see a movie, just the two of them. Elle tried not to look disappointed. God, I can't do anything for that poor girl. I can't give my daughter a nice night of family time. Even on her fucking birthday. I am incredibly worthless, sucking all the life out of this family. _

_I'm drunk. Drunk and miserable and alone. _

…

_**May 20**__**th**_

_Dad got me a gym membership. He said that an aquatics class or yoga or something like that would give me something to do now that I've stopped working. And Dr. Asher agrees (hip-hip-hooray…), saying that some structure in my daily schedule could give me a sense of stability and help with the severity of my mood swings. _

_Well, we'll see about that one, Doc. _

_So anyway, I went to a yoga class this morning, and after getting over how ridiculous I thought it looked, I kind of enjoyed myself. It was pretty relaxing, and it did make me feel better. I'll probably go back again on Wednesday. _

_But do I feel any less bipolar? No. _

…

_**May 26**__**th**__** ! ! !  
**_

_I was told to try and write more when I'm in depressive and hypomanic states! So here I am, crazy Peyton! ! ! ! YEAAAAHHH! ! ! ! ! ! I'm hypomanic today and I love it. DID YOU HEAR ME? ? ? ? I LOVE IT! ! ! I feel awake and alive and buzzed! It's times like these that I wonder HOW THE HELL I ever feel depressed! Depression? ? ? PFFT! There's way too much to do than be depressed. I'm going shopping now! No time to write any more!_

_AND PS, Yoga's a bust. I need to do something where I can move at a faster pace! I'm going to take up kick-boxing! _

…

_**June 1**__**st**_

_You know, I really hate therapy. I hate the way the office smells. I hate the way that the ugly, olive green couch squeaks when I sit on it. I hate that the blinds are always closed. I hate how Dr. Asher looks like Colonel Sanders. _

_But I really hate talking about my feelings. Well, at least to the psychologist. Sure, Dr. Asher, you may have a PhD or whatever, blah, blah, blah, you may be a so-called 'specialist' in mood and anxiety disorders, but what the hell do you know about my life? I could talk about my problems till I'm blue in the face, but that doesn't mean you can fix them. _

_I mean, is that all shrinks do? Just get us to talk about our problems and emotions, while occasionally prescribing medication that never seems to work? Well then what? I'm perfectly aware of what my problems are. I don't need to talk to anyone about them. It's so frustrating; they're all concerned about me addressing these problems I have with my past, but they just don't get it. It's not my past that needs to be fixed. It's ME. I just want to get better. But that's hard, because most of the time I don't give a shit. _

_It's like I'm digging myself into a deep hole by walking in circles. I don't want to talk to Dr. Asher about my feelings. I just want to know how I can pull myself out of this hole. And that's what they don't get. _

_Sometimes everything just feels so hopeless. I'm afraid for what the future will bring, because I never know what or how I'm going to be feeling. It's terrifying to be afraid of your own emotions. _

_I'll admit that I've never been an optimistic person. On the contrary, I've always been probably the most pessimistic person I know. But things used to be easier to deal with. A lot of bad shit happened to me in Tree Hill, but I always got through them. Somehow, things always got better eventually._

_It's that time of my life I miss the most; Tree Hill. It's funny how that works…I put so much effort in leaving that town and that life, trying to create something new for myself. Sometimes, I'll wish that I could do it all over again. Like if could go back to when I had a choice to leave or stay...Sometimes I really wish I had stayed. Then maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe I'd be as happy as I imagine all of my old friends to be. _

_But what sucks is that the more I wish for things to be different, the harder it is to find the motivation to change._

…

_**June 3**__**rd**_

_I'm feeling a little better. _

_I watched a movie with Elle today. And I looked at her, like really looked at her for the first time in ages. She seems so much older to me now. She's grown tall and graceful, her hair and legs so much like my own. _

_People always leave. I've been saying that forever. I've been left and abandoned by so many people, but I've overlooked Elle's biological devotion to me. A child loves their parent unconditionally, just as a parent loves their child unconditionally. And I've taken her for granted. _

_And what terrifies me the most is that one day, Elle's going to wake up and realize what a pathetic waste I am. One day she's going to outgrow the curious, accepting child that she is now. She'll see how incredibly messed up I am, and she's going to resent me for it. _

_I just hope that she'll still love me as much as I love her. Especially since she's all I have left. _

_Like I said, people always leave. And maybe someday, that will make sense. But until then, I have my daughter. I hope that during my next depression I can remember that. Because having Elle makes the whole world seem so much more hopeful. I love her so much, my strong, smart, beautiful girl. Sometimes it seems like she's my only reminder that I'm not crazy enough to be unloved. _

_I'm tired. And I hope that when I wake up tomorrow, I'm still feeling as positive as I do today. _

_..._

_

* * *

_**Now, I am in no way a professional psychologist, nor do I have bipolar disorder. Peyton's case is more extreme than normal, and I tried to do some research, but if I am skewing what the disorder really is, I really apologize for that! I tried my best to do it some justice. ****I really hope this chapter gets some good reception...I was very excited about finishing it. ****:) **

**Well, one more to go! Do I deserve a review? I guess I'll let you be the judge of that. **

**Take care, **

**Love Brennan :)  
**


	27. Chapter 27

**HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOO! hi. Remember me? I didn't think so! I have been horrible to all those who were SO kind to me with their generous reviews for the last chapter. I mean, REALLY, guys, that was just incredible. I never imagined achieving over 400 reviews for this story at ALL. So thank you, all of you. **

**And here's my excuse for being a HORRIBLE updater: School. Yep, that's all I can say. I've been working on this final chapter in teeny bits ever since my last update. I'm sad that I really haven't had any time for writing at all, but I tried not to force myself, for I wanted the emotion in the chapter to be conveyed as true and genuine as I feel in my own heart. :) With that said, i have finally completed all SIX of my college applications, and i am also now officially, legitimately, legally, an ADULT. :) I had my 18th birthday not too long ago! Soooo...eeeep! haha, but really, I tried my best to make this chapter as meaningful and great as I could, considering that this, friends, is the end. **

**And just a note- i know it's been a while for most who are reading this, so I'd strongly recommend you to skim through previous chapters, especially the beginning ones, because I tie up a lot of ends and make references to things that have happened in previous chapters. :D OK WOW. **

**Without further ado (promise!) I present:  
**

* * *

It's rather surprising how greatly things can change, especially when a huge change occurs in a short amount of time. People expect things to naturally change over time, a phenomenon that is accepted as a normal part of life. It's only when a great change occurs in a short amount of time, say a memorable summer, that complex concept of change is really marveled for being as such.

As the summer days grew shorter, she could sense things beginning to change again. It had been a little over two weeks since Elle discovered her mother's diary in that old box of sketchbooks. Soon, it would be autumn, with a crispness in the air that was growing more and more present in the remaining summer nights.

She felt different now. She _was_ different now; different since she had read her mother's written words. She felt older somehow, more enlightened and understanding. It wasn't that all of the questions about Peyton had been answered, but Elle now felt as though she could understand enough to accept not knowing everything about the complexity of her mother's mental instability. Reading Peyton's own thoughts in that diary provided more insight than Elle ever could have dreamed for.

She had showed the diary to Brooke and Lucas, but nobody else. Elle had held Brooke's hand as she cried, reading the forgotten words of her best friend. It was probably incredibly painful for Brooke, Elle had thought, to read those entries, for they began shortly after Brooke had stopped coming to LA. Elle spent a lot of time admiring Brooke lately, remembering the guilt she carried around for not ever going back to help her friend; for not going back before it was too late. Elle was almost ashamed at how she hadn't always seen the strength and courage in Brooke the way she did now.

Elle didn't sit at Lucas's side as he read Peyton's diary; letting him take it home and borrow it for a few days, reading it in private. Though their relationship had long since been over, Elle couldn't bring herself to intrude on Lucas's reconciliation with Peyton's thoughts; something that still felt so personal and intimate between the two of them.

Lucas and Lindsey, according to Grace, were in marriage counseling. And though they still had a lot of emotional issues to overcome, they seemed to be doing a lot better- Lindsey especially, who had been very dedicated to building a relationship with Elle. The both of them looked so much happier lately, younger, even.

Brooke, who had been on edge over the last few days about Matt leaving for Duke that weekend, threw herself into planning and hosting Lucas's birthday party. With a little over an hour before guests were to start arriving, a rather frazzled Brooke rounded up her family in order to get everything set up in time.

"Elle, set these out on the table," Brooke thrust a stack of appetizer plates into Elle's arms. "Everyone's going to be here soon!"

Elle gasped slightly as she managed to keep her grip on the large stack of glass plates, her eyes meeting Matt's, who had just been told to tie ribbons around all of the festive birthday napkins. Matt smirked at her before Brooke appeared at his side, barking at him to work faster. Pleasantly entertained, Elle entered the dining room and set the stack of plates down next to the chocolate fountain, something she had a feeling that Lucas would find slightly too elaborate.

The doorbell rang not too long after, followed by an exasperated screech from Brooke, "That _can't_ be people arriving already! Somebody get the door!"

Joey entered the kitchen, followed by Nathan, Haley, Jamie, Hannah and Gabriel. Brooke, empting a bag of potato chips into a large bowl, glanced up and gave a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank god it's only you guys," She breathed, shoving the bowl of chips into Joey's open arms. "Awesome. You all can help us set up."

"Brooke," Haley chuckled, "You're putting the party guests to work?"

"Okay," Brooke said loudly, "Jamie, there's a box of party hats on the top shelf of the garage. Hales, you can help me finish preparing these _freaking _keesh…things…Joey, Gabe—go take those chips into the dining room. Stop eating them. Nate, and Hannah, go help Matt and Elle hang the light strands on the back porch—and _where _on earth is Julian? I sent him to the store to get candles over half an hour ago!"

They all stared uncomprehendingly at Brooke for a few moments as she paused to take a breath. Her eyes widened manically as she looked back at them, waiting for them all to get to work. Waving her arms wildly at them, she cried, "Well? Come on! GO!"

Nathan laughed loudly as the group broke apart in different directions, racing around hastily. "Only Brooke Davis would put us to work after inviting us over."

"That's what you get for arriving half an hour early!" Brooke called from inside the pantry.

Elle caught Matt's eye again, laughing, as she followed Nathan and Hannah out to the back porch.

"Does Aunt Brooke always get this way before a party?" Hannah asked, pulling lights from a large brown box.

"Yes." Matt and Nathan replied simultaneously. Elle grinned.

"So, Matt," Nathan said, as he began to wrap string lights around the porch raining, "You leave for Duke in two days, right? You all set to go?"

"Absolutely." Matt nodded, "I couldn't be more excited."

"I was set to go to Duke my whole life." Nathan said airily, "But it, uh, didn't happen…and then Jamie decided on Stanford…it's nice to finally see one of our own going to Duke. I'm really proud of you, man."

Matt smiled sheepishly, humbled. "Thanks, Nate."

"And you, Miss Han," Nathan turned to his daughter, "are starting high school soon."

"I know," Hannah said, "Swim team started over the summer, I was the _only _incoming freshman to make the varsity team. I already feel like I'm in high school. I'm totally ready for this year."

"You're fearless just like your mom." Nathan smiled fondly. He paused before looking up at Elle, who was contently listening in on the conversation. "What about you, Elle? Brooke tells me you signed up for some classes at THCC?"

"Yeah," Elle nodded. "I'll be working at the store again too." Brooke helped Elle sign up for fall classes at Tree Hill Community College, after Elle expressed how badly she wanted to finally begin to make a future for herself. Elle had never really dreamed of going to college before this summer; not when everything had seemed so bleak and hopeless in Los Angeles. But lately, as her heart healed itself from the past, Elle found herself beginning to idealize for the future. She recently learned how beautiful it was to dream.

"Any idea about major or anything yet?" Nathan asked her.

Elle smiled thoughtfully. "Abnormal Psychology…or maybe Social Work."

She wasn't sure what she wanted to do yet, but in remembering how rewarding it felt to help Lucas out of his darkness, Elle easily saw herself helping others in the same way. Maybe she's become a family counselor, like Dr. Asher had been, trying to help families deal with the stress of coping with a loved one's illness. Or perhaps she's work in the system, helping other lost kids and teenagers who never had a fair chance at happiness. Things were different now. They had changed. Whatever she did choose to do, Elle knew that she'd be supported by her family; her new, beautiful, diverse, eccentric family. And that was the best change of all.

* * *

People began to arrive just after Brooke hung the last streamer in the foyer, the kitchen quickly filling up with Lucas's friends and family; including people Elle recognized from _Ravens, _including Skills, Mouth and Chase. Julian finally returned from the store just before Lucas, Lindsey and Grace arrived at the party, and once all of the guests were present, they moved the party out onto the back porch.

Many of the introductions had been awkward for Elle, especially with those who had known Peyton in high school. But after much of the initial shock of Elle's presence had worn off, many of Lucas's old friends seemed to be very taken with her. Elle spent a good portion of the party conversing with Mouth and his wife, Millicent, and Skills, who happened to be currently on the market and offered Elle unwanted, albeit hilarious, relationship advice.

As Elle entered the house after a particularly entertaining conversation with Skills about his ex-girlfriend from high school, she saw Brooke in the kitchen, frosting the corner of an elaborately decorated birthday cake.

"Did you make this?" Elle asked in awe, admiring the little swirls of color on the sides.

Brooke snorted, but before she could answer, Lucas emerged from the pantry with a bottle of wine. "Lindsey did, actually."

"I'm just touching it up," Brooke said, "The corner got a little smudged on the way over."

"It looks really awesome," Elle said, "What kind of frosting it that? It's all different colors."

"Just vanilla, but Lindsey's very gifted with working with food coloring," Brooke held the frosting covered spatula in her hand, stepping backward. "There, I think it's finished. What say you, birthday boy?"

"I think you ladies have done a fantastic job." Lucas beamed at her. "Thanks, Brooke. For all this. The party, everything."

"You're welcome, Luke." Brooke clapped him on the shoulder as the doorbell rang. "Who could that be?"

Brooke handed Elle the frosting spatula, insisting that she have a taste, before racing into the foyer to answer the door. Elle happily licked the frosting off of the spatula as Lucas grinned.

"Is it good?" he asked.

Before Elle could reply, a loud shriek erupted from the foyer. Brooke's _oh my god_'s of surprise mingled with another woman's voice, and Lucas, who immediately had perked up at the sound of the other voice, jumped up and rushed out of the kitchen, prompting even more cries of joy and laughter from the foyer.

Elle sat there awkwardly for a moment before dumping the spatula into the sink. Just as she finished wiping the frosting from her face, Brooke and Lucas reentered the kitchen, followed by an older woman that Elle had never seen before.

"Elle, I'd like you to meet someone," Lucas said proudly, taking the woman by the hands. The woman had wavy, shoulder length silver hair, her delicate eyes deeper than any eyes Elle had ever looked upon before. "This is your grandmother, my mom, Karen."

Elle inhaled sharply as she met Karen's face, and the woman's eyes immediately pooled with tears.

"Ma," Lucas said softly, "This is my daughter, Elle. Anna-Elizabeth Sawyer, born May 17th, 2009, at 7:07 am. This is your grandchild."

Karen was standing at arms length now, her tearful eyes shining with happiness. She reached a weathered hand out and brushed it against Elle's cheek. "I've been waiting all summer to meet you."

Elle's breath was caught in her throat, unable to speak with the shock of being looked at as adoringly and lovingly as Karen was looking at her now. Nobody had ever looked at her like this before, not with eyes so deep that they spoke whole paragraphs without saying anything at all.

"Hi," she finally managed to breathe, before Karen stepped toward her and engulfed the blonde in a hug. Elle wrapped her own arms around the frail woman's shoulders, her heart swelling with happiness.

She had read all about Karen in Lucas's novel, admired and appreciated how she was portrayed as such a wise, influential, kind-hearted person. But there was something about finally meeting her in person that only further enhanced Elle's admiration toward her paternal grandmother. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"You too, my sweet girl," Karen ran a hand over Elle's curls before taking a step back, admiring her at arm's length once again.

"Where's Andy? And Lilly?" Brooke asked. For a moment, Elle had forgotten than Brooke and Lucas were still in the room.

"Lilly's studying abroad in Italy for a year," Karen said, "And Andy wasn't able to make it out; I'm only in town for a few days. Just a nice short visit."

"I'm so glad you're here. Everyone's going to be thrilled to see you, Ma." Lucas said, giving Karen's shoulder a squeeze. "They're all out back."

"I'd actually like a moment with Elle first, if you don't mind," Karen said softly, her eyes back on Elle. Elle's stomach gave a small leap, not knowing whether she should be excited or nervous.

"Okay, absolutely. We'll be outside." Lucas kissed his mother's hair. "It's so good to have you here, Ma."

Elle stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen as Brooke and Lucas disappeared through the back door, leaving her alone with Karen. Karen took a seat at the kitchen table, beckoning Elle over to join her.

"I only just heard about your grandfather, Larry," Karen said, as Elle sat down at the table as well. "He was a very good friend of mine back in the day. A good, strong man who cared about his family."

"He really was." Elle nodded, smiling a little sadly. "He gave everything to make us happy."

"And I hear that things haven't been easy for you over these last few years," Karen reached out and took Elle's hand. "I am incredibly proud at how beautiful and lovely you turned out. You are as poised and graceful as any woman who has had their whole life handed to them."

"Oh, thank you," Elle said quietly, embarrassed and flattered at the same time.

"I loved your mother very much." Karen then said, as Elle bit her lip. "And after she died, I resented myself for not staying in her life; for a small, idealistic part of me wanted to believe that I could have done something to help her."

Elle met Karen's ey

* * *

es as the older woman continued to speak, her voice soft and light, a poetic essence to her tone that filled Elle with comfort. "When Lucas first told me about you, I thought he was joking." Karen gave a small laugh. "I guess that just goes to show how life can surprise us. Life will always surprise us. That's something we can always expect. But it's how we handle those unexpected curveballs that matters. It's rather irrational to possess guilt over something you cannot control."

As Karen's words began to register deep in Elle's heart, that pleasant warmth in her chest made it's way into her limbs and head, making her whole body and soul feel lighter, happier.

"Wow, the resemblance is just uncanny," Karen said softly, "You really do have your father's eyes."

* * *

As the sun began to set in the summer sky, Elle made her way through of the house, her mind still reeling from her conversation with Karen. Her eye caught a figure's silhouette through the glass on the front door, and making her way outside, Elle found Matt seated on the front porch, gazing off into the sunset.

"Hey, you." She said softly, seating herself down next to him.

"Hey," he replied, somewhat absently.

"You okay?" Elle studied his face; his brows furrowed slightly, his eyes disconnected.

"Yeah," Matt gave her a smile, "More than okay, actually. I'm just…thinking."

She scooted closer to him, their shoulders now touching. "Thinking about what?"

"Just…change, you know?" Matt knocked a knee against hers. "Things are always changing, right before our eyes. I see my life in stages, you know? Like the stage when my parents were still alive. Then there were the dark ages in foster care. Then, I got adopted by Brooke and Julian. And then there was the stage before we had Joey or Avery, and so many different ones after that. I thought the next stage of my life wouldn't begin until I went to Duke." He paused, thinking again. "But this summer created a whole new stage in and of itself. You come here, and suddenly everything's new and different again. Life wasn't the same after you showed up. You changed everything. Now I can't picture any new stages without you in them."

"That's good, I hope…," Elle grinned.

Matt put an arm around her, rolling his eyes playfully. "Of _course_ it's good."

"Are you scared?" Elle asked softly, "About leaving for school in two days?"

Matt gave a small laugh. "You know, you're the first person to ask me that. Everyone just assumes that I'm going to be fine with it, since I was in foster care and was constantly moving around for a good portion of my childhood. I should be used to it."

There was a vulnerability flashing across Matt's face that she had never seen before. He looked smaller than usual, not like the big, strong person whom she had always relied on. Elle couldn't help but feel grateful that he was letting her see this side of him, a side that he obviously didn't share with just anyone.

"Yeah, I'm scared." He let out a breath and paused for a moment. "Even if I'm used to moving around and starting over, that doesn't mean it doesn't still scare the shit out of me every time."

"I don't think that makes you any less of a strong person. I've learned that strength means being aware of your emotions and handling them in the best way possible; not hiding them away and pretending they don't exist at all." Elle leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's always terrifying to start over."

"Thanks." He leaned in to her as well. "So, I'm scared. But at the same time, I'm really excited. Like over-the-moon _stoked _to go. It's this weird combination of positive and negative anxiety. I can't wait to go to Duke and start the next stage of my life." He nudged the top of her head with his nose. "I'll miss you though."

"What? Nah," Elle sat up, smiling playfully, "You'll meet some curly haired girl from Los Angeles with a ton of emotional baggage and forget all about me."

"Well, at least I have something to look forward to now," Matt snorted.

She gave him a slight shove before leaning against him again. He ran a hand through her curls as they both stared out into the yard. Her soft words came out muffled against his shoulder, "I'll miss you too."

She didn't exactly know what her relationship with him was; some strange combination of romantic affection and platonic actions. They were stuck between being friends and more than friends, a place that didn't provide a lot of information on what to say or how to act around the other person. Perhaps that would all change soon; maybe they'll evolve into something incredible, or maybe they'll both find new love interests down the road.

Elle wasn't certain about what she wanted with Matt. Their time together would be substantially less frequent, given he was going to be at Duke, but she did know that no matter what happened, she wanted him in her life in the future. "_I spent my whole life longing for a friend like you," _she had once told him. It was their connection, the way they could have whole conversations in their glances, the way his eyes burrowed into her soul, unjudging and understanding, that meant so much to her. And whether they eventually got together or not, Elle knew that she wanted that connection with Matt to be a constant in her future.

They sat there for a few minutes, not speaking, before Matt gave her a kiss on the head. Their silent reflections were interrupted, however, as the front door burst open, light from the house flooding the now almost dark porch.

"There you guys are!" Joey cried, "Mom is ready to cut Uncle Lucas's cake! She's wondering where you went! C'mon!"

Elle glanced at Matt as they both stood, following Joey back out to the porch. Brooke was, just as Joey had said, standing over the cake, a knife in one hand, a lighter in the other.

"Okay, Matt and Elle are here!" Brooke announced, as she flipped the lighter with her thumb, "I'm lighting the cake now! Everybody gather around!"

"Ten Candles?" Joey was at Brooke's side, looking down at the cake. "There's only ten candles! Uncle Lucas isn't turning _ten!_"

"If she put Luke's real age on that cake, I think the porch would burn down," Nathan said from across the porch, as many guests chuckled. Haley snorted and elbowed his side.

"Ha-ha-ha," Lucas said, "Go ahead and make fun of an old man on his birthday."

"Luke, get over here," Brooke motioned to Lucas, "Take a seat in front of your cake so I can light it."

Lucas grinned and shook his head, seating himself in the chair directly behind the birthday cake. "There, Brooke, go to town."

"Thank you," Brooke smiled satisfyingly, igniting the lighter in her hand, sweeping it across the candles. "Okay, '_happy birthday_' on three! One…two…-,"

"Wait, wait!" Lindsey suddenly jumped up, pulling a camera from her purse.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Brooke cried, setting the lighter down on the table.

"We need a picture first! It's tradition!" Lindsey thrust the camera into Brooke's free hand, as Grace appeared at Lucas's side. Something clicked in Elle's mind as she remembered the framed picture of Lucas, Lindsey and Grace on his desk. She was surprised that she hadn't thought of that picture at all until now.

"It _is _tradition," Lucas nodded, laughing at the slightly annoyed look on Brooke's face. "We take a picture with my girls _before_ singing happy birthday."

"Okay, okay," Brooke sighed, smiling slightly, turning the camera on.

"I need my girls behind me," Lucas said, as Lindsey and Grace leaned over each side of him. Lucas looked across the porch, his eyes meeting Elle's. "_All _my girls."

Something strong and warm erupted in Elle's heart as she joined Lindsey and Grace behind Lucas, their arms intertwining.

"I think it's time I updated that family picture on my desk." Lucas said, before smiling for the camera.

Elle didn't have to pose as the camera flash went off, the smile across her face nothing but true and genuine joy. This was her family. She could have cried.

_Then _

_She crossed the dark living room of Peyton's small high rise apartment with heavy limbs and groggy eyes, yawning as she reached out to open the back door. _

"_Peyton?" Brooke stepped out onto the balcony, closing the sliding glass door behind her. Peyton turned to face her, revealing her very pregnant front side. From the back, it wasn't noticeable; Brooke often forgot that her best friend was less than a month away from her due date. _

"_Oh," Peyton replied quietly, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." _

"_What are you doing?" Brooke stifled a yawn, "It's five-thirty in the morning." _

"_Couldn't sleep." Peyton turned away from her again, "You should go back to bed, Brooke. You have a long flight later." _

_Brooke frowned slightly at Peyton's flat tone; not sure if Peyton was simply making a statement or backhandedly telling her that she was upset that Brooke was leaving. "P. Sawyer…," she said slowly, reaching her best friend's side. _

"_I don't want you to go." Peyton said, hanging her head slightly. "I…I don't have anybody else." _

_Brooke grabbed Peyton's hand. "You know I wish I could stay. But I have to get back to the company in New York. It's really starting to take off." Brooke paused, giving Peyton a reassuring smile. "It's only for a little while. I'll be back here the second you go into labor." _

"_I know." Peyton smiled half-heartedly. "Thanks." _

"_So…what are you doing up?" Brooke asked again, "You won't be able to sleep in much longer…not with little one on the way." She rubbed Peyton's protruding stomach._

"_I told you, I couldn't sleep." Peyton shrugged. _

"_But what are you doing out here?" Brooke pushed, looking out over the Los Angeles skyline, where the sun was slowly beginning to creep up over the horizon. _

_Peyton gave a great sigh. "I'm just…trying to understand it all, you know? Life. I'm trying to understand why bad things happen and what the point of it all is." She shrugged again. "And so I came out here, because the sun's rising. And watching the sun rise just seems to make everything else make more sense."_

"_What about sunsets?" Brooke asked. _

"_I like sunrises," Peyton said. " It's something beginning, instead of something ending."_

_Brooke smiled sadly. "That's beautiful, Peyton." _

_Peyton snorted. "It's cheesy. It's so cliché and dumb." She paused, the cynicism leaving her tone. "But…it's an inspiration. A big, cheesy hopeful inspiration showing me that even though life is horrible sometimes, the sun will still rise the next day. A sunrise is like a do-over. A start from scratch. I'll stand out here and watch it coming up from the horizon, and I'll feel like things are still possible. I'll feel like things will be okay." _

"_Things WILL be okay." Brooke said firmly, looking her friend in the face. _

_Peyton glanced away, smiling. "Just watch the sunrise, Brooke." _

Now 

Elle stirred slightly before sitting up in bed. She rubbed her eyes slightly, her heart still light with the memories from the enjoyable party that had only ended a few hours earlier. Glancing out the window, Elle spotted a lone figure down on the dock below, as the sky outside began to brighten along the ocean horizon. Scrambling out from underneath the sheets, Elle tiptoed out of the room as quietly as she could in the earliest hours of the morning.

"Brooke? What are you doing?" Elle whispered, as she approached Brooke outside on the dock. Brooke turned around slowly, holding out a hand to Elle, beckoning her closer.

"Just watching the sunrise," Brooke said softly as Elle joined her side. "I haven't done this since your first morning here."

Elle blinked; Brooke's words triggering a train of thoughts in her mind. She remembered standing in this very spot with Brooke on her first morning in Tree Hill. There had been so much pain and confusion in her heart, and although she could remember it vividly, the memory seemed so distant, so far away. Had that even been from the same lifetime? Things were so different now, now that she no longer felt as though she was wandering around in the blackness of her own confusion.

"We've come a long way since then, huh?" Elle looked up at Brooke, who tore her eyes away from the horizon.

"Yes. Yes we have." Brooke brushed a hand down Elle's arm. "You've grown so much; you're so strong and smart. You're exactly who I hoped that little girl I loved would grow up to be."

Elle's heart swelled as she leaned into Brooke. "Thank you, Brooke. For everything. I really don't know what I did to deserve someone like you in my life."

"It's not a question of what you deserve." Brooke said, "You are part of my family. And I've loved you as such since the day you were born."

"My best memories from my childhood are when we would watch the sunrise." Elle brushed a loose curl out of her eyes. "I used to love it when we'd wake up early together and watch it, just the two of us. You always said that it was something beginning-,"

"…instead of something ending." Brooke smiled.

Those words had been a vice for her over the years, a symbol of the possibility that things can start over. Since Peyton's death, Elle's thoughts and choices had been based on her desire to start things over from scratch. To Elle, it seemed like that was the only way to fully erase the pain that had been simmering in her heart for years.

But now, after all these years, Elle knew that she'd mistaken the symbolism of the sunrise. It wasn't a symbol of how it was possible to start over from scratch, but rather a beacon of hope, showing her that no matter how dark the night was, life was still going on. It was not a symbol of a do-over. Elle realized that it was a symbol of progression.

Even though the day was new, it was still the same sun rising in the same sky.

No person can ever truly start over from scratch, no matter how long they keep running. They can lie to themselves, cover things up and run away, creating an illusion, a visage, only to one day come to the realization that all they have done is force themselves to block out the pain. But no matter how long they run, no matter how hard they try to forget…the memories would always be there. They wouldn't ever fade.

Elle knew that now; knew that she'd live with the ghosts of her past for the rest of her life. But as she gazed out at the sunrise, she knew that it was okay. This beautiful, new found acceptance of life was finally showing Elle not how much she had lost, but how much she had _gained_; how she could finally love and feel and hope, how she could now let go of a lifetime's resentment and finally move on.

She was done running away from her problems. And she was done being angry about her past. Elle thought of Moe. She didn't know if she'd ever see Moe again, but Moe's parting words had certainly left an impact. Maybe Moe was right, maybe everything that's ever happened to her was a blessing that she mistook for a curse. Maybe things kept happening like this to only make her stronger. Maybe it just took her a while to finally realize it.

Elle had finally realized that being strong doesn't mean covering feelings up and not showing emotion. Being strong means having the ability to face it all, to face _life, _no matter how hurt, or scared or vulnerable it all may feel. Strength does not come from the ability to hold back tears. It comes from being able to get past it all, to learn, forgive, _heal, _and grow. Elle learned that strength means tearing those walls down and experiencing life with all of her heart, her soul, her entire being. She learned that strength means being able to accept her past as the past and still be able to more forward without letting her demons wear her down.

Peyton had died. And that would probably always hurt. But everything hurt a whole lot less now that she was able to finally accept it. Now that she was able to forgive.

"Since I got here, I've been seeing this life as a completely different one than the one I lived in LA." Elle said, "But…but it's not different. I'm still standing here with you, watching the sunrise. It's always been the same life, no matter how hard I tried to forget that. No matter how hard I tried to start from scratch. Things are different…but it's all the same."

"That's right, sweetheart." Brooke whispered, running a hand down Elle's arm again.

"She was sick. And it's okay." Elle found herself saying, "She was sick…and she held on for as long as she did because she loved me. She loved me."

Brooke didn't speak as she gave Elle a proud, tearful smile, the affection in her eyes saying it all. With a shuddering breath, Brooke pulled Elle into her arms, holding her close. Elle clung back, appreciating the embrace as one that only Brooke could give.

It wasn't a fresh start, a clean slate, but a new chapter in the same story. As she watched the sun slowly creep up from behind the horizon, Brooke's arms around her frame, Elle realized that for the first time in her life, she felt at peace. She had a family, a support system of people who loved her; a bright future after years of trying to change the past. Life would inevitably be painful at times, but Elle knew that she had Brooke, Lucas, Matt, Julian, Grace and everybody else in her beautiful new family to depend on. She would never again have to experience the pain of feeling unloved. Elle knew that from here on out, things would be okay.

And that alone, that beautiful sense of peace and belonging, was immensely, incredibly, absolutely one-hundred percent more rewarding than the ability to start over from scratch.

...

The End

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

**(breaths) **

**Okay, guys! Here it is. I never thought I'd see this story finished. I'm actually getting a little emotional right now- _Scratch_ has been such a large part of my life for over a year now. I don't even know where to begin now that I have finished! I hope that I didn't end it too abruptly or leave anyone feeling confused about something that I forgot to tie up. Writing this story has been rather therapeutic for me- A few years ago, my sister committed suicide. And for such a long time I couldn't understand why or how she could have done that. I found myself taking comfort in this story I created in my head. In writing _Scratch_, I was able to further examine the psychological complexity of the pain of losing a loved one to suicide. And though Kaylee was not bipolar,_ Scratch_ gave me the opportunity to begin to understand things from her side. In better understanding these emotions, I have found it easier for myself to heal and grow. :)  
**

**So, to all my loyal reviewers, especially those who have been with me from the start, it has been an incredible journey. And I know I wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for your wonderful support and generous responses. I really owe it all to you guys. Thank you all so SOOO much! As for readers/lurkers, thank you all for being so interested in my writing, and I hope I have provided you all with much entertainment and enlightenment. :D**

**Please leave me something, whether it be critique, questions, flames, love, whatever. :) If you have gotten something out of my writing, if it has touched your heart in the way it heals mine, please, please let me know. If I can communicate and connect to an audience through my writing, I know that I have done something great. I hope all of you can take a piece of _Scratch _and carry it with you forever, never forgetting that in life, it is not impossible to heal and overcome even the most painful of tragedies. Please, please take care! **

**All my love, **

**Brennan :)  
**


	28. Author's note

**A final word - **

**Hi everyone, it's been a while since I've been around :) I've found that lately, I have been revisiting old places to reestablish whatever sense of comfort they used to make me feel. That's why i ended up here, i guess. They were some of my most wonderful escapes, both fanfiction and one tree hill. I seem to have drifted away from them both, but in doing so I take many memories of writing and posting _Scratch_. It was a very therapeutic time for me. **

**Since I am admittedly overly-nostalgic, I wanted to send this story for a final go-round. I've started writing from my own world now, and I credit this fanfiction community for giving me the confidence to do so :) I haven't been very good at responding to reviews, so I apologize to every single one of you that I haven't directly thanked (- note this is still indirect and i am still sorry, heheh). ****I'm retiring from fanfiction for a while...though maybe I'll stumble upon this comforting place again somewhere down the road. **  


**Though only months ago, I look back on those days of _Scratch_ as a different stage in my life...and I suppose I felt the need to formally bid farewell to you readers, to this story, to everything this place meant to me. I'm peaceful and still writing, majoring in english or creative writing when I begin college in the fall. maybe if I ever publish a novel someday, I'll use a familiar face or two. Who knows :) But for now, I'm going down the path with my chin up. In the wake of a progression-themed story, what better to do than just that ;) **

**Take care, all :)  
**

**Love, Brennan  
**


End file.
